London's Best
by Simone Lyon
Summary: COMPLETE! A sequel to "Hope": London was investigating the prisoners, and now London has come up with an idea to use some of them.
1. Stir Crazy

**Chapter 1--S****tir**** C****razy**

"You're a dirty rotten cheater, Peter!"

"Yeah, that was pretty low of you."

"We thought you were really hurt, man."

"Not to mention you cheated."

"'Ardly. Parker didn't touch me so I didn't cheat. I tricked you. There's a difference you know."

"It was still low."

Hogan walked from his quarters as the sound of his men coming back into the barracks drifted into his quarters. They had been outside for their regulated recreation time. It was Sunday, their work day off--as far as the Germans knew. Work on the mess hall had been steady and progress was being made. Klink rewarded them with easy Sundays. Shorter roll calls, slightly better food, and longer recreation hours. So far, nothing had disturbed it.

"Okay, okay," said Hogan. "What's all the ruckus about?" He had only just come inside to grab his baseball glove. But it looked like everyone was turning in from the game outside. He was rather disappointed. It had been a good game between a team of Europeans versus an American team.

"Newkirk cheated," pouted Carter.

"I did not cheat," stated Newkirk firmly. "Like I said: I tricked you."

"Well, it was a dirty trick," said Olsen.

"What happened," asked Hogan, once again.

"Newkirk was running to home plate," explained Kinch. "When he supposedly tripped and fell. He acted like his back was hurting. So when he got up slowly and started walking towards the infirmary, no one bothered him. He just said he was going to see Wilson. When he got close to home, he ran over and touched it."

Hogan rolled his eyes and looked at Newkirk. "Who won?"

"Europeans," said Newkirk with a sheepish smile. "By one," he added softly.

The barracks erupted again. Hogan held up his hands for order. "All right, all right, settle down. Now, Newkirk, though it may have been a nice little trick, if you ever pull a stunt like that again with your back, I'll—"

He was interrupted by the barracks door bursting open. Wilson stepped in, looking thoroughly annoyed. He spotted Newkirk sitting on the opposite side of the table, and glared at the Englishman pointedly.

"—get Wilson to come get you," finished Hogan with a sly grin. The worried look on Newkirk's face was priceless.

Wilson covered the ground from the door to the table with two large steps. He put his hands on the table, and leaned over at Newkirk. Newkirk leaned back some.

"Can I do somethin' for you, Mum," he asked.

"If you ever, _ever_, pull a stunt like that again with your back—" Newkirk looked at Hogan and back to Wilson. "—I will make you work for me for the rest of the war."

"It was just a trick," said Newkirk, exasperated.

"A bad one," argued Wilson quickly. "We thought you were really hurt. And do you know how serious it would be if you re-injured your back?"

"Yea," said Newkirk. "I might die of boredom again in that 'ospital bed."

"Newkirk," said Wilson in a warning tone.

"Okay, okay," muttered Newkirk, annoyed. "I'm gettin' the picture—from everyone. 'Ow'd you find out anyway?"

"Blackwell and Arcenau came running into the infirmary for me, rambling on in two different languages that I couldn't understand," said Wilson. "When I finally calmed them down, they told me in real English that you'd hurt your back at the game. But when I got there all I found were pig-headed, boasting Europeans and sulking Americans saying your name like a curse."

"Sounds familiar," said Hogan.

"Hmph," said Newkirk. He got up. "Well, if that's 'ow you chaps feel, I'll just go on down to the tunnels and work on some uniforms." He went over and opened up the tunnel entrance. "By the way, if you Yanks can pull stuff like the Boston Tea Party, why ain't I allowed to pull a stunt like that when it works?"

Before anyone could make a reply, he jumped down into the tunnel, not bothering with the ladder. Wilson's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Oh brother," he said. He looked at Hogan. "You need to do something about your men."

"Men," asked Hogan. "I thought this was just Newkirk."

"Nope," said Wilson. "Because in case you haven't noticed, most of the European prisoners have gone crazy lately." He shook his head. "I'd better get back to the infirmary. With me gone, no telling what Blackwell will take next. He already took a medical bag for this play they're doing." He left quickly.

"I'm gonna go keep an ear on the radio," said Kinch. He went down into the tunnel.

Hogan looked at LeBeau, who had been working at the stove silently throughout most of the afternoon. "How about it LeBeau? Some kinda holiday comin' along that we don't know about?"

"_Non_," answered LeBeau with a small smile. "It 'as just been a long war. Winter is finally gone, and we are restless."

"You don't seem so restless," remarked Carter.

"I 'ave learned to suppress that emotion," said LeBeau. "As long as I 'ave my cooking."

"What do you mean a long war," asked Olsen.

"You 'ave been locked away 'ow long now," asked LeBeau.

"Most of us have been prisoners for almost two years now," answered Scotty.

"Can you imagine, then, what you would feel after nearly four years of being a prisoner," asked LeBeau. "It comes and goes. You should know that. Just be patient."

"Well yeah, we know that," said Baker. "But when we go stir crazy, we don't go crazy all at the same time. You guys seem to have it coordinated or something so that it's madness for everyone."

"It is not madness," replied LeBeau. "And it is not coordinated either. It is all a coincidence. Besides, do you 'onestly think we would go through the trouble of coordinating our actions against you guys?"

"Yes," answered the barracks.

LeBeau paused in his stirring for a moment, and then continued with a shrug. "Well, that is your own superstition then, is it not? It is not my problem either. And why are you being so accusing towards me? I am not bothering anyone, am I?"

"No," said Forrest. "But you are one of them."

"_Them_," said LeBeau. "You act like we are very different. We are not. We are prisoners. And should this war last another two years, you will one day understand more of what we feel."

"Okay," said Hogan. "Don't get too hot. We were just wondering. And besides, two years is good enough of me. I've got a good enough idea about being a prisoner." He patted LeBeau on the shoulder and looked at the other guys. "And lay off of 'em fellas. They do have a point: they've been a prisoner a whole two years longer. They've got the right to go crazy every now and then. Just watch out for you stuff, okay?"

Hogan turned back to his quarters to put up his baseball glove. He thought about the past few weeks. There had been a consistent build up of energy felt since everything had died down after the hectic month before. With Newkirk's release from the infirmary two weeks earlier, it was as if the tight energy had been snapped and exploded into action. Not a day had gone by that was not punctuated with a friendly prank, or someone exclaiming that yet another one of their belongings had gone missing. At first, everyone had thought it was Newkirk spending all the energy he had undoubtedly been impatiently consuming during his time at the infirmary. But when Hogan was confronted by prisoners in other barracks complaining that there were other shenanigans going on, no one could dispute that there was more than one culprit among them.

Finally, the Europeans had come forth confessing—but not returning—that they had the missing items, and were in fact planning a play and needed props. Hogan got the okay from Klink to have this play when the mess hall was completed. The prisoners were a bit more comfortable about the missing items, as long as they were seen in the play and returned afterwards.

The playful energy that was running through the Europeans was sort of contagious and relaxing. Save two routine missions with meeting with escaped prisoners and getting them to London, there had been no other missions. There was a lull, but this one was not boring like other times. They were working during the day on the mess hall, and at night the liveliness of the stir crazy kept everyone busy. Even some of the guards had noticed it, especially when entering barracks. They were wary and often had the prisoners come out instead of them going on now. Hogan personally enjoyed it. Everyone seemed to have moved on from the frantic and scary month before. Everything had nearly ended then, but now, no one could have guessed.

Well, almost everyone had moved on.

Hogan was interrupted from his thoughts when Baker came in saying that Kinch had a priority call from London waiting. Hogan sighed.

London was the one who had not moved on.


	2. London Calls

**Chapter 2--L****ondon**** C****alls**

Kinch climbed out of the tunnel, and closed it. He sat down uneasily at the table, and fidgeted with half dealt cards. LeBeau handed him a mug of some coffee.

"You look worried, _mon ami_," said the Frenchman.

"Yeah Kinch, what's up," asked Carter from up on Newkirk's bunk.

"Generals," muttered Kinch.

"Generals," asked Olsen.

"Yeah," answered Kinch. "Some general is calling from London. It's not even General Butler."

"Don't worry," said Carter. "They're probably just still talking about al that stuff that happened."

"That stuff, Carter," said LeBeau. "Nearly ended our operation and lives."

"I know," said Carter. "But it's happened and we solved it. Hochstetter didn't even come back."

"Which has the Colonel suspicious," noted Forrest.

"Hochstetter was really injured," said Carter. "Maybe he can't come over here."

"'E is the Gestapo," said LeBeau. "If 'e could not come, 'e would send someone else."

"I dunno," said Baker. "Kinch?"

Kinch shook his head. "I'm not worried about Hochstetter. I worried about this general. He's an American special-ops general. I didn't get his name. It's just that whenever a general calls for something special, it goes ill for us."

Just then, the barracks door opened up and Newkirk came in, looking around.

"I thought you were down in the tunnel," said Carter.

"I was," answered Newkirk distractedly. "Where's the Guv'nor?"

"Talking to London on the radio," answered Kinch. "Where'd you come out?"

"Infirmary. Scared Mum to death nearly. Colonel been down there long?"

"No," answered Kinch again. "He just went down. And don't be going in the tunnel one place and going out another. The Krauts might notice you gettin' from one place to another without steppin' foot outside."

"Oh, they're not that smart."

"What do you need the Colonel for," asked Forrest.

"I was goin' to ask if me an' Matthews could go into town to look for some more props."

"Like what?"

"A guitar maybe."

"A guitar?!?!" The barracks echoed back the stranger answer.

"What the hell do you want a guitar for," asked Olsen.

"Maybe they have gone crazy," murmured Scotty.

"And why do you think you're gonna find one in Hammelburg," asked Baker.

"You never know," said Newkirk. "An' it's for the play, doncha know? Now, we got a mission or somethin'?"

"Don't know," said Kinch. "It's a general. Priority call."

"Oh bugger," said Newkirk, sitting down at the table, looking defeated.

"What," asked Carter.

"After talkin' to some ruddy pencil pusher, the Colonel 'Ogan won't be in the mood to let anyone go into town."

"You never know."

"Haha, very funny."

"No, really, he might let y'all go."

"Thanks for the optimism Andrew. But—"

The tunnel opened up, and Hogan climbed out quickly, appearing infuriated. Everyone looked away as he started stomping towards his quarters. But he stopped by the table and looked down at Newkirk.

"Weren't you in the tunnels," he asked.

"Yes, sir," said Newkirk. "But I left via the infirmary. But I won't do it again. Kinch already told me the Krauts might notice somethin' fishy iffen I do that often."

Hogan shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"Sir?"

"It's fine."

"O-kay. Um, you alright, Guv'nor?"

"Do you need something Newkirk?"

"Umm…" Newkirk looked at Kinch, but got no comfort when the radioman looked as confused as he felt. He looked back at Hogan. "Actually, there is somethin'. Me an' Matthews wanted to go shoppin' in town for some props. Tonight, per'aps?"

Hogan nodded. "Sure. Just stay safe."

Newkirk nodded slowly. "We will, sir."

They all watched as Hogan turned and went back into his quarters, slamming the door behind him.

"Is it just me," said Forrest. "Or did the Colonel seem a bit off?"

"Definitely off, mate," said Newkirk. "'E was angry when 'e came out, but then gave me permission to go out. That's odd."

"You just have to be optimistic," said Carter triumphantly.

"Well, something's not right," said Kinch. "I mean, he was still angry about something. Which mean the general ticked him off."

"I wonder if we've got another mission," said Carter. "Personally, I'd like one."

"But if it is something that would make _le Colonèl_ so mad, then it must be a dangerous one he does not agree with," said LeBeau. "Be careful what you wish for André."

"Damn generals," muttered Olsen.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens," said Baker. "We'll have to find out sooner or later what it was."

"Well," said Newkirk, getting up. "I'm goin' to find Matthews an' let 'im know we're good to go tonight." He went to the door. "If the Guv'nor tells you chaps anythin' come an' find me, will you?"

"Will do," said Carter. "Bye."

Newkirk left. Right after he shut the door, Hogan opened his and stuck his head out. "Kinch come here. I need to talk to you."

"Yes, sir," said Kinch, getting up. Hogan went back into his quarters and Kinch gave the others a look. Then he stepped into Hogan's office and shut the door behind him. Hogan was sitting at his desk, staring at worn wood, and drumming his fingers against it. "Need to talk about something sir?"

"Yeah, have a seat," said Hogan.

Kinch sat down on the bottom bunk, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "What's up?"

"London's up," answered Hogan quickly. "And up big time. They're at the drawing board for the invasion."

Kinch's eyebrows shot up. "Lemme guess: they want us to pull off an impossible task?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have something to do when the big day comes," said Hogan. "But they're thinking of things that need to happen before the invasion. People they wanna knock out so that the strong of command isn't great when we invade. They want things to happen that'll cause confusion amongst the Nazis and their equipment so that they can't counterattack as quickly. Things like that."

"So," said Kinch, trying to prompt the Colonel on. "What exactly does London want us to do?"

Hogan heaved a large sigh, and looked directly at Kinch. "They investigated all of us, as you know. And while doing that, they got the idea that maybe since we already have an operation here with men experienced in actions behind lines, that they could use some of us. They want me to send some who are quote: 'expendable to our operation but still have adequate skills for behind the lines.'"

"What," blurted out Kinch. "Who the hell do we send? No one is expendable to our operation."

"I know," said Hogan. "I told them that. But they're not leaving it up to us anyway. They already selected the men they wanted."

"Who," asked Kinch urgently.

"Blackwell, Arcenau, Matthews, LaMarque, Simmons, Alexander…and Newkirk," answered Hogan softly. "Notice a trend?"

Kinch jumped up, and Hogan had never seen his radioman look so angry before. But he knew why. Singling out people was something Kinch was familiar with, and he never tolerated it from anyone. The seven men who had been selected—three Brits, two Americans, and a Frenchman—were some of those in the camp who had their shady backgrounds, some having even done time in jail before. Kinch knew it. Hogan knew it. And when the rest of the camp found out, they would know it too.

"Expendable," spat Kinch. "London doesn't want men expendable to our operation. They want men that they think are expendable to society."

"I know," said Hogan. "All fellas society wants to punish."

"Is this London's way of punishing them," asked Kinch.

"I don't think so," answered Hogan, shocking Kinch. "I think that London just doesn't trust them. Perkins was one of them, and he turned."

"So they're gonna get rid of the lot of 'em," asked Kinch. "Perkins was one man."

"I told them that."

"And what about the fact that we use these men and their skills…especially Newkirk."

"I told them that as well."

"And that they're already in prison is that's what they're worried about."

"I might've mentioned that on the side too."

"Colonel, we can't let them just take these men and get them killed somewhere."

"I know, Kinch," said Hogan standing up. "I threw everything at them and promised them I would fight this the whole way. I'm taking it to every damn general I can. We can't lose this."

"What are you gonna do if we do lose," asked Kinch.

Hogan shook his head and looked out his window. "Was Newkirk shocked that I'm letting him and Matthews go out tonight?"

"Yeah, we all were."

"Well, I figured that if we lose this, I'll let them enjoy themselves more."


	3. Cockroaches

**Chapter 3--C****ockroaches **

"Colonel Hogan, you need to control your men more efficiently. This was uncalled for. I want my cigars returned and these…bugs gotten rid of."

"Sounds like a personal problem," remarked Hogan.

"Hogan," said Klink firmly. "This…what is that Schultz calls it…monkey business?…well it has to stop."

"See, you're quoting Schultz," said Hogan. "It is a personal problem."

"Look," said Klink. "If your men's antics do not cease, then the result will be men in the cooler."

Hogan stood before Kommandant Klink at his desk. The latest prank had been fulfilled when Klink went to go fish out a cigar and instead found roaches and the cigars gone. The Kommandant of the toughest POW camp had composed himself well enough to keep it to a minimal shriek…heard by Hilda and some prisoners outside because the window was open. Of course, no one mentioned that they had heard anything.

Hogan had to admit, it had been a nice little prank, but he had to draw the line somewhere. Pulling pranks on the Nazis would only get them in trouble. And the Kommandant especially. Still, he had to prevent his men being sent to the cooler.

"Oh, c'mon Kommandant," said Hogan. "They're just having some fun. They're young and cooped up on these lovely spring days. Not to mention we've been working every day. Give 'em a break."

"I will give them a break," said Klink. "They will not have to work because they will be in the cooler on bread and water."

"Kommandant, it was just a little prank," argued Hogan once more. "Listen, I'll get them to stop. But don't send anyone to the cooler this time."

"Very well," said Klink. "This time. But I do want my cigars back." He looked at the box. "And take your roaches with you. Keep the box."

"It'll be a nice place to keep my letters in sir," said Hogan quickly, before darting out of the room.

Outside, Hogan was met by several men, inquiry about what had happened with Klink. He spotted Moreau, who had been on cleaning duty earlier today.

"Come here you," he said slyly.

The young Frenchman stepped forward. He snapped to a cheeky salute. "Reporting as ordered, _mon Colonèl_!" The other prisoners gathered around snickered.

Hogan kept a straight face. "Have you been missing any cockroaches lately, Private?"

Moreau sighed. "_Colonèl_, I must admit that of late, I 'ave been missing Corporal LeBeau's cooking."

The prisoners laughed, knowing full well the name that Klink and Schultz had for little LeBeau. Even Hogan could not help but smile at that.

"I'll be sure to let LeBeau know," said Hogan. He opened the box, revealing several cockroaches crawling around. He quickly closed it to prevent any from escaping. "These yours?"

"Camp mascots, sir," explained Moreau. "They represent our 'ole 'ere in life."

"Wonderfully creative," said Hogan. "But I need for you to get rid of 'em and return Klink's cigars."

_"Certainment, Colonèl_," answered Moreau. He took the box. "I will return them to you at _le dîner_. Perhaps we may enjoy some then?"

"Perhaps," said Hogan. "Get along now. I've kept you out of the cooler for now, but next time it won't happen. And spread the word to your other culprits: no pranks on the Krauts. They don't understand your humor."

"I'm not sure even I do," commented an American. "Cockroaches?"

Moreau shrugged. "Either that or rats."

"Go," said Hogan firmly, struggling to hold a smile back.

Moreau chuckled and hurried off. Hogan shook his head and started. As he did, he spotted Newkirk walking with Matthews, and his heart dropped. Momentarily, with the cockroach incident, he had forgotten his biggest issue right now. Klink had sent for Hogan before he could tell anything more to Kinch. But now, he had to turn back to this crisis.

The more he thought about it, the more it angered him. What was London thinking? He was dreading the fact that he had to give the news to those selected. It would hurt them, and Hogan was certain it would hurt him as well. He was already hurt. He had promised London and Kinch that he would fight this. But his gut feeling was that this was a fight they were certain to lose. London had already seemed persistent enough. They had rejected everything Hogan threw at them. Apparently, they had already made the decision that he had no say in their decision. Well, he would sure as hell keep voicing his thoughts.

He stopped Newkirk and Matthews as they neared the barracks.

"Hey fellas," said Hogan. "I need a word."

"Sure Colonel," said Newkirk.

"I need you to gather up a few guys ad meet me back in the office," said Hogan. "I need you to find Alexander, Simmons, LaMarque, Blackwell, and Arcenau."

"Wow," said Matthews. "It sounds like you've got something big planned, sir."

"We'll talk about it in my office," said Hogan solemnly.

But before they could go off, Carter came out of the barracks. "Lunch is ready guys."

"'Ey, nice timin'," said Newkirk. "Mind if we round 'em up later, Colonel?"

Hogan nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, let's enjoy a good meal, shall we?"

Newkirk opened the door. "After you, sir."

Hogan shook his head with a smile and went back into the barracks. Matthews decided to join them and walked in as well. They found everyone already in line to serve themselves from LeBeau's pot. Everyone breathed in the heavenly aroma of the chef's wonderful cooking.

"Boy, I sure am glad we got back into town for our own food shopping," said Carter.

Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the barracks. The mood was light, but Hogan was not feeling it. He spotted Kinch seated sort of in the corner, and saw that the radioman was not feeling it either. Kinch looked up and just nodded to him solemnly.

"Now," said LeBeau, as he served each man. "No one eat until _le Colonèl_ 'as tried it. This is a special meal--the first one I 'ave been able to cook since the return of the grocer--so, _Colonèl _Hogan will 'ave the 'onors.

"Thank you LeBeau," said Hogan, as he gathered his plate. "But let's not keep everyone waiting."

"_Non_. I insist," said LeBeau.

"Okay, serve me up," said Hogan. He held out his bowl, and LeBeau spooned out some vegetable soup and handed him a spoon.

Now if Hogan had been paying more attention to the men around him, he would have noticed that three of them bore peculiar expressions. Newkirk and Matthews seemed to be waiting with bated breath for Hogan to take the first bite. And LeBeau looked to be trying very hard to wipe the smile off his face. If Hogan had noticed this, perhaps he would have thought twice about diving right into the delicious smelling broth. But, he did not, so when he quickly sipped up the first bite, he felt like a fire had been lit on his tongue. His eyes went wide, his nose flared, and he started sputtering and coughing in a shocked fit. He nearly dropped his bowl.

Several of the men jumped up immediately, suddenly concerned. LeBeau put on his innocently terrified face, and grabbed the bowl from Hogan's hands and helped him sit down at the table. The men crowded around with questions.

"Colonel, you okay?"

"What happened?"

"Was it the food?"

"Someone get Wilson!"

"Um…let's not."

"Shut up, Newkirk, Wilson won't come after you again."

"Unless…NEWKIRK DID YOU MESS WITH COLONEL HOGAN'S FOOD?!"

"I did not! I don't know a bloody thing about food!"

"Water…please."

Five mugs were rapidly shoved under Hogan's nose. He took one and gulped the cool liquid down quickly. He shook his head and when he looked up, Scotty had Newkirk by his collar. Matthews was trying to pry Scotty away, and Forrest was tugging at Matthews.

"Hold it! Hold it!"

Everyone froze and looked down at Hogan. He coughed and stood up. "Break it up." They all let go of each other. Hogan shook his head at them and the turned around. He looked down at LeBeau.

"I thought you said you had suppressed your stir crazy emotions," said Hogan.

LeBeau blushed. "I am sorry. But I could not resist pulling off something of my own."

"You tampered with the food," asked Baker.

"_Oui_," answered LeBeau. "Well, not the food exactly. I coated the spoon with a pepper sauce. That way, it did not really contaminate the food."

"That's good," said Newkirk. He took up a bowl and started eating. "Cause this stuff is pretty good Louie. And so was the prank. Pretty clever."

"_Merci Pierre_," said LeBeau.

"I guess I owe you an apology, Newkirk," said Scotty. "I'll just do better not to assume it's always you."

"Apology accepted," said Newkirk.

"Besides," said Hogan. "You should know from these past couple of weeks that we have several talented pranksters in this camp."

Over the amiable and lighthearted lunch, Hogan told them of Moreau's prank on Klink. There was a good laugh about it, but Hogan warned them not to mess with the Krauts anymore. He then secured promises from Newkirk, LeBeau and Matthews as well, much to the amusement of the others.

But after lunch, it was back to business. He looked to Newkirk and Matthews. "Go get the others and meet me back here pronto."

"Righto," said Newkirk.

When they left, Kinch came up to Hogan. "What exactly are you gonna tell 'em?"

"Exactly what London told me," said Hogan softly. "What I told you. They deserve nothing less."

"Yes sir," agreed Kinch. "I'm gonna go downstairs."

Hogan just nodded. Before the radioman went down, he said. "Thanks Kinch."

Kinch just nodded. "Anytime, sir."

When the tunnel was closed, Hogan turned to his office, but LeBeau and Carter stopped him.

"What's goin' on Colonel," asked Carter.

Hogan sighed. "I can't tell you fellas right now. It concerns some other people first. But you will know."

"That is fine," said LeBeau.

"Is it a mission," asked Carter.

LeBeau gave him a look. "Carter, 'e said 'e would tell us later. Be patient."

"No, it's not a mission," said Hogan. "Now, no more questions. You'll just have to wait."

"Yes, sir," said Carter.

Hogan went into his quarters quickly, in order to avoid any more questions. Once inside, he sat down at his desk, his heart pounding. He didn't want to tell these guys anything. He didn't want to be the harbinger of the terrible news. But this was one of those unwanted jobs that came with being an officer. However, he felt that he could handle giving word that a mission failed better than he could handle telling a group of men that they were wanted back in London; wanted because men were needed for a suicide mission. He had told Kinch that he would just plainly tell them, but the more he thought about it, the more he fretted over it. It was beginning to seem harder to say.

About twenty minutes later, Newkirk and Matthews came back, with the other five in tow. Hogan stood up from his desk, and let them squeeze into his room. The door was closed.

"Well, sir," said Newkirk. "We're all 'ere."

"Gee, sir," said Simmons. "What are you planning on robbing, Berchtesgaden?"

Hogan couldn't help but smile. "Not me. But maybe London."

The men exchanged some nervous glances.

"Wot exactly is that supposed to mean, Guv'nor," asked Newkirk.

Hogan swallowed. "Earlier today I talked to London. They told me that with the coming of an invasion, they needed certain missions completed in the hopes of creating some kind of chaos for the Nazis before the invasion even occurred. You know, to maybe catch them off guard. They also told me that the men here were the perfect ones for the job."

"Why," blurted out LaMarque.

"Their explanation," said Hogan. "Was that the men here already had behind the lines experience. I said no, saying that I needed every man I had here. But they pretty much ignored every argument I had. They finished by telling me they had already selected the men they wanted."

He was met with a knowing silence. The expression on each man's face told him that they already knew what was coming. They knew it was them.

"_Quand nous partons_," asked Arcenau. (1)

"_Parlez anglais_," snapped LaMarque. "We know you can speak it." (2)

Arcenau rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe if I do not speak English, London will not want me for this suicide mission. And do not speak French to me…_salir l'acadien_." (3)

"Hey," said Hogan. He was not quite sure what they were saying but their tones specified that they were not entirely friendly words. "Quiet down. And Arcenau, just to fill you in, London already knows you can speak English fluently."

"How," asked Arcenau.

"They investigated every man in this camp," explained Hogan. "After the security issues we had last month, they wanted to look into everyone who was involved with this operation. They know everything about you." He looked at each of them, pleading inside that they would connect the dots for themselves because he did not want to have to tell them.

It did not take long.

Matthews and Newkirk looked at one another.

"Sir," asked Blackwell. "They now everything?"

"Yeah," said Hogan. "They went through everyone's records. They wanted to see if everyone involved was legitimate…if they could be trusted."

"So they took a look at our records and decided we were a bit too much on the dark side for them," asked Matthews.

"I don't agree with it," said Hogan awkwardly. "But yes, that's the impression they're giving me. In fact, the words they gave me were: 'men expendable to the operation.'"

"What?!"

"I know," said Hogan. "I gave them my thoughts about it."

"And what did they say," asked Alexander.

"Nothing much," said Hogan. "Like I said; they just ignored what I had to say. It was some general I've never met or heard of before. He was a special operations officer. And all he could tell me was that he needed you guys. I told him that was a bunch of baloney—but not exactly in those words—and that we had no men that were expendable to this operation." He sighed. "Look, the reason I'm telling you all of this is because you deserve to know exactly what was said. You're the men being sent—if they actually follow through with it—and you deserve to know what is surrounding it all."

"What else did he say," asked Simmons.

Hogan swallowed. "He didn't hide the reason why he had picked you. The last thing he said to me was that the way things were going around here, why wouldn't I feel more comfortable with a few thieves gone."

There was more silence.

"Do you trust us Colonel," asked Matthews softly.

"Yes," said Hogan sincerely and without hesitation. "You've never given me a reason not to. I don't expect to ever have a reason to. Hell, all of you guys have risked your lives already, just by being here, and all of you have already been on a mission or two even. I trust all of you."

"But London doesn't," murmured Simmons.

"Figures," said Matthews. "Ruddy toffs never could see beyond the looks."

"_Les counards_," muttered LaMarque angrily. (4)

"_Oui_," spat Arcenau in agreement.

"So what now," asked Alexander.

"When do we leave," asked Blackwell.

Hogan's face hardened. "You're not leaving if I can help it. London didn't say much else except to let you guys be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. But I'm dragging this out with 'em."

"Don't get yourself in trouble," said Newkirk.

"I will if it means keeping you fellas alive," said Hogan. "I would rather be a private, than a general at your funerals."

Stunned silence met him again, and he got the feeling that no one had ever said anything like that to them.

"_Merci_," said Arcenau.

The others just nodded.

"Well," said Hogan. "I mean it."

"You'd be the only one," said Blackwell. "And…um, are we allowed to talk about this?"

Hogan nodded. "Please do for your own sakes. The more you can stir it up, the more chance there is London will change their minds. Just remember this, though: this is a pre-invasion plan London has. Don't mention the invasion at all. That part remains in this room."

"Yes, sir," replied everyone.

"Okay," said Hogan. "Well, that's all I have to say… all that I can say."

The men said their thanks and then left quietly, each deep in thought. Newkirk remained sitting on the bottom bunk, just staring down at the floor.

Hogan looked at him. "You okay?"

Newkirk looked up at him. "Yea, I'm fine. Just a bit o' a shock."

"Newkirk, really," said Hogan. "This has to be bothering you."

The corporal shook his head. "Actually, it's not. You know why?"

"No."

"Cause I've never expected anything differently from these guys. Like Matthews said; these toffs just can't see past the backgrounds. We may 'ave screwed up a couple o' times, but all they assume is that we're always screwed up. It makes sense."

"No, it doesn't," said Hogan. "Not to me."

"You're one o' a kind, Guv'nor," said Newkirk with a smile. He stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm goin' to go talk with Matthews about goin' into town tonight."

He left the room quickly, leaving Hogan feeling guilty and powerless.

* * *

Translations:

(1) When do we leave?

(2) Speak English.

(3) Dirty Cajun.

(4) F---ing idiots. (the unromantic side of French :)

**In case you were wondering about some of the OCs' nationalities, I'll set it straight for you:

Alexander, Simmons, and LaMarque: American  
Matthews and Blackwell: British  
Arcenau: French


	4. Amongst the Ranks

**Chapter 4--A****mongst ****the**** R****anks**

When Hogan finally stepped out of his office a few minutes later, he was showered with questions by the other men in the barracks. Apparently, the seven selected men had not divulged anything except by their expressions.

"What is going on Colonel?"

"They looked like someone had punched them in the face."

"Is this another suicide mission?"

"What did London want?"

The questions went on, and Hogan wearily sat down at the table.

"Hey! Be quiet!"

Everyone looked at Kinch. The radioman was standing with his legs apart at shoulder-width, making himself look larger than he already was compared to them. His hands were on his hips, demanding authority, and his stern expression was leaving no room for argument. Everyone backed down and the room fell quiet.

"Maybe," said Kinch. "If we all shut up and stop badgering the Colonel, he'll tell us something. And if he doesn't, we wait. That's that."

Carter almost said "yes, sir" but closed his mouth quickly. Everyone else just looked around awkwardly, feeling ashamed for their behavior. Hogan would have smiled if the time was not solemn. Kinch always had a way for making people seriously rethink what they were doing.

"Thanks, Kinch," said Hogan. He looked at the other guys, who were avoiding his gaze. "I'm not mad, fellas, just a bit strung out right now. I know you're curious as to what's going on."

"Um…Yes sir?" said Scotty. The others chuckled at Scotty's clumsy attempt to tell Hogan that they were very curious.

Hogan smiled and sat up straighter. "Well, I'm gonna tell you, because eventually it'll get around. But first, as usual, don't repeat anything around the Krauts and be careful about where you are discussing it. I know you guys know that, but there are big things surrounding London's plan.

"Yes, sir," replied everyone. They were anxiously waiting.

"Alright," said Hogan. He quickly told them London's plan, giving them mostly the version he had given Kinch. He did not want to really broadcast everything that London had said about the seven men they had selected. If they wanted to themselves, he would leave it up to them. But he promised himself that he would not do anything to hurt the good reputations they had around camp.

The reaction was pure outrage from everyone. There was a good minute and a half after he was through in which was spent just listening to the talk, which was really venting the fury the men were feeling. Hogan, however, was rather pleased that this was the reaction. That meant that there were others in the camp--beyond his command crew--that were behind him, and felt the same way. He did need everything he could get to show London they could not take those men.

Finally, the harsh words died away, bringing up the unanswered questions.

"What are you going to do about this, Colonel?"

"You're not gonna let 'em go, are you?"

"How would we get them out anyway?"

"We should let 'em escape."

"Yeah! Get outta here and go to Switzerland!"

Hogan gave an exasperated look towards Kinch, but the very glance made the men quiet down.

"Look," said Hogan. "I can't even answer those questions. London seems to have the answers. And I already promised London and the guys that I would fight it out. And if I do lose…I don't know what I'll do."

"What do you mean that you do not know," cried LeBeau. "You cannot let them go like that!"

"Louis," said Kinch sternly. "What can you do? It's London's orders."

"They can run for it," said LeBeau. "We could get them to Switzerland easily."

"And put them up for desertion," snapped back Hogan. "Look, if we lose this fight, what they do next is gonna be their choice. I won't force them go anywhere. But one thing we have to remember, is that this is a war and we're the soldier that get the orders. We've had suicide missions before. We've gotten lucky and used our resources to survive. This may be another suicide mission for them, but if they get the orders, then there isn't anything we can do or say to object them. The job has to get done somehow. Men die every day in this damned war. If they don't go, someone else will have to. If it could be helped, no one would go, but that isn't how a war works."

There was a stunned silence that came after Hogan's rant. Everyman, even Kinch, was looking at him with confusion and uncertainty. LeBeau looked furious.

"So you will throw Pierre and the others to the wolves," he said. "I thought you were _mon Colonèl_, but I guess I was mistaken."

With that he pulled off his apron, threw it onto the table and stomped down into the tunnel, closing the entrance behind him. The men slowly dispersed, most of them going outside. A few retreated to the corners in small groups, whispering with each other. Carter and Kinch followed Hogan into his office. He sat down at his desk and stared down at it

"I've screwed this up royally," he muttered. "I guess I put that the wrong way."

"I understand what you're saying," said Carter softly.

"Thanks," said Hogan. "But it looks like you're the only one."

"Sir," said Kinch. "You're right. The men know you're right. LeBeau does too. But you know how he gets, and how most people get when they're angry. They're not thinking clearly. But don't worry. They'll think it over and understand what you're saying. It's just a nasty situation we're in."

"Thanks, Kinch," said Hogan. "You always seem to know what to say and when to say it." He sighed. "I'm worried about what I said too, though." He looked up at them. "I mean, someone has to go and that's what sucks about it."

"Well," said Carter. "You just tell London that they can't have them because we need them."

"Carter," said Kinch. "Didn't you understand what London wasn't exactly saying?"

"Oh, they said it," said Hogan. "I'm just not advertising it."

"What'd they say," asked Carter, still not grasping it.

"Look," said Kinch. "All of those men that London wants, what do they have in common?"

Carter thought for a moment, and shrugged. "I dunno, I don't know all of 'em."

Kinch rolled his eyes. "You know their backgrounds Carter. It's what they're known for. They're all convicts one way or another, from petty thief to robbing banks so I've heard. That's why London specifically chose them; they don't trust them."

Carter's string of expressions following Kinch's answer was a priceless display, and Hogan might have laughed if he had not been so sober. Carter went from confusion, to realization, to a huffy fury that was so much like Carter. Like the man who looked like he could never get angry at anyone and hold the grudge, but those that really knew him knew it was no joke. Carter was mad.

"Before you say anything Carter, I've heard it all," said Hogan holding up a hand. "I'm just as mad as you are; everyone is. Right now I just have to think up my next argument."

"Well," said Carter, in a very indignant tone. "I wish I could go on up to London and tell 'em what I think about it to this General's face."

Kinch smirked slightly. "I'm not sure that would do anything good for us. Maybe get us in a whole lotta trouble, but nothing good."

But Hogan snapped his fingers. "That's it."

"What's it?"

"I could go _to_ London and talk directly _to_ them," said Hogan.

"Sir," said Kinch. "If you couldn't convince them from a thousand miles away, what makes you think you're gonna be able to when you're a few inches from them?"

"Because, there's something fishy going on over there," answered Hogan.

"What do you mean, Colonel," asked Carter.

"It just wasn't right is all," said Hogan. "I only talked to Goldilocks and then some special ops General, called Weber. By the way, let's not kick that name around shall we?" They nodded. "Anyway, normally, in a situation like this, I would talk to General Butler (1), as well, seeing as he lords over it all."

"Actually, Eisenhower does," said Carter.

"I doubt he even knows we exist, we're too much of a secret," said Kinch.

"Whatever," said Hogan, waving it off. "The point is, I should have been able to talk to Butler, but they didn't let me. I don't think he wants this, and if I can go there, get his thoughts on it, and then we both make our report together, maybe we can actually get something done."

Kinch and Carter smiled. "Sounds like a plan," said Kinch. "Would you like me to contact Goldilocks so that you can talk to General Butler?"

"Yeah," said Hogan. "But not today."

"Why not," asked Carter. "We've got to get started now. London could call for the guys tomorrow!"

"I don't think they will," said Hogan. "They didn't sound completely finalized. You have to understand, if the guys to get called back, and actually go, they have to be occupied somehow until their mission. Maybe Headquarters doesn't know exactly what they need done yet, and all of that. They just know who they want for the job. Anyway, I don't think they're going to call tomorrow. And as for why I won't call tonight, that's because I know they're just waiting for me to call back. They want to shoot me down again quickly so that I never have time to get back up."

"But you will, won't you," asked Carter hopefully.

"You bet I will," said Hogan. "I promised them a fight, and they're gonna get one."

* * *

(1) I'm not really sure what that English general's name is that Hogan is always talking to, so if I'm right or wrong please let me know!

* * *


	5. Stories: Newkirk

**Chapter 5--S****tories****: N****ewkirk**

When LeBeau stomped down into the tunnel, he headed straight for the small area where the uniforms were kept. Besides at the stove, it was the other place that he could be alone and try and think constructively when he was angry. But when he got there he found that the little room was already occupied. He stood in the doorway and watched as Newkirk paced up and down the room.

The Englishman was unaware that LeBeau was even there. He was walking quickly with his head down, kicking up dirt from the tunnel floor, with a deliberate countenance. When LeBeau found him, he felt a pang of pity for Newkirk, because even if he wanted to he could not fully understand the feeling of being selected for something so drastic. The pity he felt overwhelmed the frustration he was feeling towards Colonel Hogan. His face softened and he watched Newkirk for a moment before speaking up.

"Newkirk," he said. "Do you want to talk?"

Perhaps Newkirk had known he as there, because he didn't change anything at the sound of LeBeau's voice. He paced on and replied, "Talk about wot?"

LeBeau scowled. "You know what I am talking about. _Colonèl_ 'Ogan told us what London called for. Newkirk, it is rotten for them to do it, and their reasons for their selections make it even worse. But we will not let it 'appen."

"That's wot the Guv'nor said," said Newkirk. "But I don't see it 'appenin'."

"You are too pessimistic," said LeBeau quickly, trying to cheer his friend up. "But if anyone could keep it from 'appening, it would be 'im."

Newkirk stopped and looked at LeBeau with a cynical smirk. "You don't 'ave to play dumb wif me, Louie. I 'eard wot 'e said up there, an' I 'eard wot you said back. Now, if you don't mind I'd like to think this over by meself."

He went back to pacing as if LeBeau was no longer there.

Though LeBeau was taken aback at first by the fact that Newkirk had overheard the conversation upstairs when they thought he was not listening, he was not going to let the Englishman walk himself deep into a hole of misery. LeBeau stepped out into Newkirk's path and stopped him.

"_Non_," he said firmly. "If only you fight it then you will gain nothing. I was wrong. What I told _Colonèl_ 'Ogan was wrong. We can fight this, and we can make London reconsider."

"No, LeBeau, you can't," said Newkirk, exasperatedly. "You don't understand. It's like they're prosecutors. Once they've got you they don't want to let you go. They look at us like we're scum from the gutter, and you know wot, that's actually wot I am."

"You are not," LeBeau shot back intensely. "You are better than that."

"Maybe I am now," spat Newkirk. "But they don't know that. They've most likely got some ruddy file in their faces tellin' 'em 'ow many times I got caught wif the wrong lot on the wrong frog when I was sixteen or so! I might seem right as rain now, but lemme tell you, I wasn't always." He turned his back to LeBeau and fidgeted with some uniforms.

"You made a few mistake, so what," exclaimed LeBeau. "We all do. You were young."

"Yeah, I know that," said Newkirk, spinning around aggressively. "I was nineteen when I went to Scotland Yard."

LeBeau looked up at him. "Scotland Yard? Like the prison?"

"It wasn't a garden up in Glasgow, mate," said Newkirk. "Yes, the prison. It was for nothin', though. I just 'ad too much under me belt. I went there for a eighteen months, but the fact remains, I went there." He sat down at a table, suddenly out of energy.

LeBeau slapped his hands on the table, looking at Newkirk with disbelief. "But prison?"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Yes, Louie, prison. , but I can't say it in French. Now, if you're goin' to act like that about it, I don't know wot to say other than you should've known I 'ad to get caught eventually."

LeBeau sighed and sat down as well. "_Je suis désolé_, _Pierre_." (1) He rubbed his forehead. "I am so angry at London I cannot seem to act right or speak right. I am jumping to conclusions and acting stupid."

There was an awkward silence that descended between the two. LeBeau was hoping that Newkirk would break it.

"I'm waitin' for you to say that you've just been actin' like me," said Newkirk with a smile.

LeBeau smiled with relief. "Pierre, _non_, Peter, why don't you tell me what 'appened to land you in prison? Unless, you want to keep it to yourself."

"No reason to," said Newkirk. "All right, I'll give you the tale." He sighed. "So, I was nineteen, an' by that time 'ad a reputation to bein' a fairly good picker o' locks an' safes. I learned that from good ole Alfie the Artist. 'E, obviously, 'ad 'is fair share o' play, but wasn't gettin' around as much anymore. A few knew 'e'd taught me, which would come to bite me back later. On account o' me skills, I worked for a few gentlemen when they wanted some goods. Me mates an' I also 'ad a business where we'd steal an' then sell. We usually got up into the rich neighborhoods, where the toffs lived. There was plannin' involved each time. We found the right places wif the right goods an' at the right time, we'd break in, bag 'em, an' disappear. Next mornin', we might 'ear about the robbery in the paper, if we'd gotten some ruddy family who went absolutely crazy over a lost lamp or somethin'."

"A lamp," asked LeBeau. "You stole lamps?"

Newkirk smiled. "We bagged anythin' we knew would sell in the market. But we didn't go 'untin' for the jackpot safe. We just went for wot we knew was there."

"And what was your role in all of this, _mon ami_," asked LeBeau slyly.

"Pick the locks an' keep watch," replied Newkirk quickly. "I worked too much durin' the day to do much sellin'. But I did get a fair share o' the winnin's."

LeBeau shook his head. "I could never understand it. But go on."

"Anyway," continued Newkirk. "So one day this local fellow, who 'ad 'is own work o' thugs, 'e 'ired us for a particular 'ouse. It was another thugs 'ouse. Who 'e was getting' back at. Well, I should've known to never get stuck in between those kinda wars. But the money we was offered seemed too much to just walk away from. We 'ad to take the job. It sounded easy enough. There was apparently a safe o' in the bloke's office. Now, supposedly, an' I couldn't tell ya for sure, but there was supposed to be 1 million pounds in that safe."

"1 million," gasped LeBeau in surprise. "_Sacre bleu! _'Ow could 'e keep so much money in one spot?"

"Don't ask me," said Newkirk. "It sure sounds ridiculous, though." He cocked his head. "Actually, it sounded quite ridiculous then, too. Per'aps, if we'd been thinkin' straight, we would've known that it sounded like barney."

"Barney," asked LeBeau.

"Oh, uh, trouble," translated Newkirk.

"Ah," said LeBeau. "I think I see where this is going."

Newkirk smiled. "Well, we couldn't, mostly cause we were blinded by the pounds we'd get. An' lately around that time, I'd been 'avin' some doubts, mostly cause o' me Mum. She was such a good Mum, but we'd gotten into a fight, an' I was blowin' off anythin' she ever said. Well, that was the last time I ever did that. We went into the 'ouse, an' no sooner than a few minutes later, we were caught by the guv'nor o' the 'ouse an' 'is thugs. It turned out that the whole convention was a set up. That bloke knew were 'ired 'ands. That was why 'e didn't press too many charges."

"What do you mean," asked LeBeau.

"'E could've 'ad us spill our guts about who bought us," said Newkirk. "But 'e knew that if 'e did, our families might get 'urt. 'E really caught us just to make a statement to the other bloke But I'd never been so scared in my life. An' not for me. For me Mum an' sis. Still, the judge, knowin' we was young an' bought, 'e just turned us in as thieves. We were charged and found guilty of attempted robbery. They were also able to link us up to a few other 'ouses we'd raided. We were all sentenced for three years at Scotland Yard. Me, an' me best mate, Thomas Mackey, we got out at eighteen months 'cause o' good behavior an' the fact that our families were sufferin' wifout us workin'. So, we were sent back, an' they said someone would be watchin' us. I doubted that, cause there was always so much goin' on in East End, they couldn't keep good eyes on us lowly thieves. But I'd learned my lesson anyway. Not so much from goin' to prison, but cause I'd 'urt me Mum an' sis. Poor Mavis, she looked like she was afraid o' me sometimes. Me Mum, well, we didn't talk for awhile either. But once we all got around, an' they were trustin' me again, it was great. Times were still tough, but I'd never felt 'appier."

LeBeau smiled. "You are really soft, you know?"

"I know," said Newkirk with a cheeky grin. But then he scowled playfully. "But only sometimes, and a rarity still. 'Sides, can't 'ave me reputation ruined. Else I'd never be able to keep you blokes in line."

"You keep us in line," exclaimed LeBeau. "You are _très fou_! _You_, keep _us, _in line?" (2)

They both chuckled. Newkirk took out a cigarette, lit it, and then took a long drag. LeBeau watched him blow out the smoke slowly through his mouth and nose. The Frenchman contemplated at how when he really looked at Newkirk, he could see the stress lines that should not have been there. But on the man who had seen and done so much in his life, they were obviously present. He remembered when he had first met the Englishman, both on the run. The Englishman had seemed like an unemotional thug. LeBeau arrogantly played up the patriotic Frenchman. But they had both been trying to be cool and tough against the other, even though they had to work together to survive. It was only after their failed attempt to avoid capture that they realized how valuable they were to one another; in fight, flight, or comfort.

Now, LeBeau had just learned about an impact time in his friend's life, been though he had always thought that there was nothing could contest with their present situation. In other terms, nothing could contest. But in the way of learning and growing as a person, he now realized there were other things.

Newkirk caught LeBeau looking at him.

"Wot you lookin' at Frog," he asked.

LeBeau shrugged with a small smile.

"Nothing," he said. "I just wish you would smile more. Like before, in the olden days."

"Olden days," murmured Newkirk. "When the barbed wire was shinnier and the Krauts uglier and the war impersonal?" He took another drag, as if thinking on it. He smiled as he breathed again. "Maybe I'll try. But it's just 'arder. Don't tell me you don't know wot I mean, Louie."

LeBeau shook his head. "_Non_. I remember what you say. Sometimes, even though we 'ave done so much 'ere, I wish that we could go just back to even a couple o' years ago, when we were normal prisoners."

Newkirk nodded. "At least no generals were watchin' us. Just those other dogs."

* * *

(1) Translation: I'm sorry

(2) Translation: so crazy


	6. Stories: Arcenau

**A/N:** I cut off the "h"s on French dialogue because the "H" is silent in French. It's usually very subtle because the French speak so quickly, but even those who speak English well still cut off "H" from the beginning of words. I know this is probably confusing, especially when compared to Newkirk's accented dialogue. But if dialogue gets too crazy, let me know and I'll trim it down.

* * *

**Chapter 6--S****tories****: A****rcenau**

Arcenau walked back into his barracks, slamming the door behind him. Ignoring the stares of his inmates, he fell down onto his lower bunk, and turned to the wall. He was glaring at it, as if it were his enemies. Really, he could see his enemies: those sneering faces of the people who had always looked down on him because he was…what?…uncaring about the thrifts of the wealthy? Because he did not find meaning in the obnoxious and nauseating luxury that some apparently did?

_Phui! Les séjour bâtards,_ he thought. _Why were so many people terrible towards others because of their fiscal status? _(1)

He heard the door open and slam shut again. He had an idea about who it was. And at that, he felt guilty. Turning over some, he saw LaMarque clumsily sit down at the table. _Le jaune acadien_ looked lost. (2) And Arcenau knew how he felt. They had had it made here. If you were a POW, this was where you wanted to be. It was where you were a soldier, though with a bit more freedom, even in a prison camp. You were bound, yes, but still lifted because you always knew you were doing something for your country. Now, everything had changed so quickly and so harshly, and it made a man wonder…why me?

Arcenau rolled all the way onto his back, and stared up at the bunk above. He was now contemplative, trying to make sense of everything. He had asked that question—which everyone seems to ask multiple times in their life—when he had first been captured. It had been a tough life, though one he had adapted too. The prison was a dull routine of work, which he could conform too, because he was good at conforming. At least on the outside. LaMarque, and others who had been captured later on (in Stalag 13, that was mostly Americans), they had it good. There were scares here, but that brutal life before…well, they had not been exposed to it for long.

Maybe that was why Arcenau had always been reluctant to befriend with most of his inmates at this POW camp. Before, he had not minded. They were all French, British, Belgian, Czech, and other Europeans. Everyone from the same boat. Occupied countries that were being torn apart by their tyrants. Britain was the exception, but the Blitz was enough. Then, Americans started coming. They had Pearl Harbor... _quel était la grande affaire_? (3) That was nothing compared to other countries' grievances. At least, they had no worry of their families disappearing or getting killed. At least, they knew they were going home to something. Before, it had all looked so dim. Miracle was a mythical word. Grateful was brought down to the most uncivilized levels. Arcenau was bitter about it. In fact, he had been bitter about it long before the war.

When he was a boy, being Torben Arcenau instead of Private Arcenau, he was in Sträsbourg. His family was not poor, but in fact very wealthy, even in the time of the Great Depression. Wealthy, then, had had a different meaning, but they were still much better off than most. However, he felt like he was detached from the rest of the real world. He went to different schools than most kids in Sträsbourg, and spent his free time doing different things, like meaningless, boring games with the family and friends. Torben had been an adventurous and mischievous boy, and that was not the life for him. Nope, when he could steal the chance, he would scarper into the wilderness, without a care in the world, except maybe to run away into the mountains and never return.

Until reality grabbed a hold of him.

When he was nine, his father caught ill in the winter, and he never really recovered. He was hidden away, and tended to by nurses and doctors daily. His mother reacted by retreating from society and her husband. Torben was the youngest of five, his elder siblings all being sisters, and only one left in the house, although she would be gone soon. He was left to the care of nannies, nuns, and schoolteachers. Nobody he wanted to spend his time with. By the time that summer had come, he was ready to be set free. So, he liberated himself, flying into the streets of Sträsbourg with a heart only for fun.

He had long watched other kids playing. How they played together and were always having a good time. No matter how torn or dirtied their clothes and faces were, or what season it was, there was fun to be found with these _enfants_. (4) He ditched his _luxueux _clothes and took to the more comfortable rags. (5) But that was always during the day. He would climb back into his nice clothes for when he returned home. Of course, they appeared somewhat tussled about, since they had been uncaringly discarded, but his caretakers had always thought that was just because he was a young boy, and they were bound to end up that way.

When his time on the streets was coming to a close with the summer, he and his best friend, Patrice, conceived a plan to run away. They had heard of tales of castles in the mountains, and would seek them out to lord over them. They were really childhood fantasies, not even legends, just their imagination. He took some food from home, enough for two. He had directions to his Patrice's home, where he would wait for him to make a break. But the break never came. Instead, he heard crying breaking from the window. Torben crept in quietly, and found inside the shabby home, _une pauvre famille_ gathered around a bed which bore the late mother of the house. (6) She had been sick, with a fever, and died just there as Torben stood outside waiting. Torben was shocked to see that it was maid who worked at his house.

That runaway was called off by the two friends. Back at the house, Torben inquired about the maid who had died. All he got from his mother, who was very insensitive to her son's shock and confusion, was blatant remarks about the payload and those peasants. It was enough to send Torben over the edge for good. And over he went; over the fenced estate and away from that life. He had concluded that he cared too much to be in a house that big.

Taking to the streets was his great adventure. He fell into Patrice's family, who adopted him like a son. He changed his name from Torben Arcenau to Raphael Bagôt. As they explored the less attractive sights of the streets, they learned ways to feed themselves from the streets. Raphael, Patrice, and Patrice's younger sisters became exceptionally good at pick-pocketing. They got so good at it, that after while, they could bring home a good meal from the money they lifted. Patrice's father worked so long in the day, he never inquired about the appearance of food on his table. He ate and went to bed, often up earlier that his four children, including Raphael. Throughout all this time, Raphael forgot about his previous life. He was comfortable where he was, because he was finally around people who he knew could feel. He grew up that way. They went to school seldom, and that was only if _les agents de police_ were watching for vagabond kids. (7) Raphael, having had some good schooling earlier, was well ahead of most of the students who had been neglected. But he didn't care. Most of the time, he would ditch, go work a few odd jobs, pick some money up from pockets, and then wander on the outskirts of the city, just thinking. When they were older, they took jobs in factories, but their posse still worked off other people's pockets.

The summer of his eighteenth birthday, Raphael and Patrice saved enough money (from work and pockets) to leave France for the summer. They decided to take a trip into Germany, and see what was on that side of the border. They were unconcerned with a language barrier because Sträsbourg was a bilingual city with French and German. So, they wandered into Germany and hitch-hiked their way to Zurich. Though the state of affairs was not entirely that appealing, the two young boys had to take a venture. There, they hooked up with a gang. It was a rougher group than they were used to, but the free-spiritedness had captured them. From that gang, they learned different ways of raking in the bills. Returning back to Sträsbourg, they were different people.

That was how they eventually wound up in trouble. They took to scamming people: in gambling, shows, exhibits, rides, anything they could come up with that was good enough to sell. Once enough people had been sold out, they would ditch it, leaving a lot of _confondus riche personnes. _(8) Their last scam was to pretend they were giving a scenic ride down the Rhine, on a "borrowed" boat. However, they were ashamed to be caught by a tough older fellow. The old man inquired too deeply into the scenic ride, making people realize that they did not really know what they were doing, Since stories of their scams had gotten around, the people were sure they had the culprits.

The old man turned them in. They were put in jail, and then on trial, for a number of crimes in which people were tricked out of their money. Though both Raphael and Patrice were dealt a blow, they most shocking thing of the trial to Raphael, was when the old man turned out to be his father. He had finally recovered from his illness years earlier. Raphael confessed that he was really Torben Arcenau, who had run away when he was a boy. But, his father continued to aggressively insult all the vagabonds and peasants of the city. That drew the line for Arcenau. There really was no hope in the world for his family.

The conclusion of the trial was that they be sent to prison for four years. Arcenau and Patrice were sent off. They both did their days, and got off at three-and-a-half because of their good behavior. Without anywhere to go, and since they had been re-thinking their past, they enlisted in the military once they got out. They knew things were tense, but had not expected a war to suddenly come. But they had become patriots for their country, vowing to die for France's freedom if need be. They had believed themselves to have changed into better men. They were no longer foolish, greedy boys, but soldiers, fighting for _la belle france. _(9)

Arcenau scowled as he stared up at the bunk above him. And this was how they were repaid. Now, even when he had been through so much, losing Patrice in battle, enduring two years of true imprisonment, and then giving up freedom to remain behind and sabotage the Nazis, he would now be called up for a suicide mission, because of his past? That past in which he had tried so hard to push behind him?

_Pourquoi moi? _(10)

"_Tu es bon_?" (11)

Arcenau swiveled his eyes over to the table, where LaMarque was watching him with concerned eyes. He proceeded to give LaMarque a cold look, which he had always done to the younger Cajun. But suddenly his bitterness deflated. LaMarque was with him too, wasn't he? Well, that was why he felt so guilty. He had always been so miserable around him, but he realized then, that LaMarque had a past too. What had gotten _him_ here? Why was London interested in him?

Arcenau replaced his cold look with a tired one. He sat up and shrugged.

"_Comme mieux que je peut prévoir._" (12)

LaMarque snorted sarcastically. Arcenau got up and went to the table.

"So, what did you do?"

"London?"

"_Oui_."

LaMarque shrugged. "_Rien_."

Arcenau frowned. "Nothing?"

"_Oui_. Not a thing. I was framed."

"_Pour que_?" (13)

"Murder."

Arcenau could not keep his jaw from dropping. And he could not squelch the terrible feeling of guilt he was feeling.

"_Mon Dieu, je suis désolé._" (14)

LaMarque gave a half-hearted smile. He stood up. "If we take a walk, I'll tell you about it."

Arcenau nodded and followed LaMarque outside. They both left their barracks mates very confused and wondering what was about to happen next at Stalag 13.

* * *

ALL TRANSLATION:

(1) Ugh! The filthy bastards!

(2) The young Cajun.

(3) What was the big deal?

(4) children

(5) fancy

(6) a poor family

(7) police officers

(8) confused rich people

(9) beautiful France

(10) Why me?

(11) Are you okay?

(12) As well as can be expected.

(13) For what?

(14) My God, I am sorry.

**Sorry for all the translations. If this is too confusing, let me know! I don't want people to be thrown off by anything.


	7. A Story to Set It Off

**Chapter 7--A Story to Set It Off**

"Now, I don't mean to say that I wasn't a God-damn preacher or anything," said LaMarque. "Nope I went on the wrong side of the tracks at one point, but I was no_ meurtrier._" (1)

LaMarque and Arcenau had left their barracks, and were now walking about the camp aimlessly. Arcenau was willing himself to be a good listener as LaMarque confessed his past. Arcenau was curious and insistent on finding out how they were connected in all of this.

"You see," started LaMarque. "_Ma famille_ was just in some tough spots in those days. It was during the depression. We were farmers, except no one could buy our sugar cane. The way it had worked was that we grew the cane, sent it off to New Orleans, and then the merchants who bought it shipped it out. But when the depression hit, it ruined everyone. We didn't rightly starve. Because, when you're on a farm, you know how to grow your food. It was just that things became different. We'd been somebody, and then we were no one."

Arcenau nodded. "_Je sais._" (2)

"We still had our community, though, which was really in the same boat as us," LaMarque went on. "Our whole community was built around agriculture and farming from the beginning. So, it hit everyone I the clan when the depression came. No one could help each other financially because everyone was I the same boat. Some of us younger fellows, myself included, went to New Orleans for work. We went to our old buyers, because sometimes they could get us with work on the ships. They didn't do a thing."

LaMarque spat on the ground, as if some of his despising had come back to him as he spoke.

"We stayed in the city," said LaMarque. "Cause there was work there. More work than there was to be found in our small towns. Besides, we all had big families, so it wasn't like we were short on hands for the farm work. Any money we got, we kept some, enough for us to live on, and sent the rest back home. We didn't trust anyone with it, so we took turns taking it there and back. We would cover for the one person gone when we were working sometimes, so that we still got the same amount of money. It was hard, but it was worth it."

LaMarque sort of smirked. "Well, not anymore. But hanging around the city, with other people in the lower class, it was different. You have lower class out in the country, and then you have the lower class in the city. It was quite a shock to us good little Catholic boys when we got privy to all of this. We grew to resist most of it, but that temptation for the money we so lacked, that we couldn't put aside. Well, just a few of us. The others, they turned a blind eye."

It was smuggling that he had taken LaMarque had taken to. Ships came in with some less advertised cargo. LaMarque and his buddy's jobs were to get the smuggled goods to the right proprietors. They were paid for that. It was a part time job that they were promptly rewarded for. It seemed so trivial. Harmless. Arcenau told him that he knew what it felt like.

"And then," said LaMarque. "One of my buddies got into an argument with this guy we brought the goods too. Said we weren't getting paid enough, cause he'd heard of people giving off better prices. Threatened to have him find someone else, or we'd leave. I didn't really care much. Case with our regular job's wages plus those, it was working out ok. Sure, more would've been nice, but I didn't see any reason to go compromise our position for it. But our employer, he saw it as more. He had a reputation he didn't want ruined. I don't know how we would've ruined it just by leaving, but anyway, he wanted to get rid of my buddy."

"So he did," stated Arcenau. "And framed you for it."

"Right," replied LaMarque. "It was easy enough too. Had one of his hit men come in to our apartment one night. My buddy got shot through the head. I was in the bathroom. The hit man dropped the gun and left via window before I could ever catch a glimpse of him. There was nothing to say I didn't do it except for my word. Which wasn't enough. The streets were getting clogged up with smugglers and trash like us, and the judge and police didn't mind putting me up in prison for thirty years. I was sixteen at the time."

"How did you get out," asked Arcenau.

"The war," answered LaMarque. "They offered me a place in the Army without opportunity of getting a promotion. I would just be a lowly private. Well, it was either that or jail for the rest of my life. I volunteered for the Army Air Corps, got made a gunner. For that I got a bonus: if I live through serving, I'll be out of jail for that sentence. But I'll be on parole the rest of life; even kicked out of Louisiana, too. Well, if I do live through this, I'll be sitting on just the east side of the Pearl River, cause there is no way I can be kept out of Louisiana the rest of my life. It's my home. Everyone thinks Louisiana is backwards, and maybe it is, but it's home. It's special in a way foreigners don't understand. And when I mean foreigners, that includes Texans, Mississippi hicks, the Yankees especially, and anyone who just ain't from there. You French seem to think the same way. Hell, everyone does about their country. Sometimes, Louisiana feels like a whole n'other country. Leastways to me."

Arcenau smiled at the younger man's pride in his homeland. He sort of guilty, despising him all this time, and without even a reason.

"I think I understand," he said. "Like people down it all the time, it makes you feel more proud of what you have."

"Yeah," exclaimed LaMarque. "I feel like saying: Ya know it ain't really that bad, if you Yankees would just drag your asses down here and have a look."

They both chuckled.

"Ok," said LaMarque. 'Maybe it is pretty bad in Louisiana. What with all the stuff we went through with Govner Long and such, and all our political problems. Guess we just like our rice and politics dirty." (3) They shared a laugh again. "But you understand, don't you? We know we're doing something wrong, but I feel so hopeless sometimes. No one lends a hand, or listens to you. They think they're high and mighty up on their horse and just think their way is plain right. But if you don't get it, if you weren't there, than you can't fix it."

"But do the ends justify the means," said Arcenau. "That's what I keep asking myself."

"I thought it over," said LaMarque. "In Angola, the worst damn prison in all of the U.S., I'm sure. Maybe that's where they keep the Krauts now. But I thought it over. I knew that if I had never got busy in all of that illegal craft, my buddy would've never been killed, and I wouldn't have been blamed for it. I would've been free, maybe back at home for good, helping my family farm, and re-start the business, now that things seem to be okay again." He sighed. "I would be with my younger brothers and sisters, maybe seeing my brothers fight now. One's in the Pacific, a seaman. The other one, he's a pilot! Couldn't believe it the first time I heard. My own kid brother, a pilot but an officer to boot! I haven't seen 'em in years now, though. It was straight from prison to the war. I wonder a lot, what if? And then I wonder too, why me?"

Arcenau nearly jumped. He suddenly hit LaMarque in the shoulder out of excitement.

"Ow," cried LaMarque in surprise. "What was that for?"

"_Rapidment,_" exclaimed Arcenau. "_Trouvons Colonèl Hogan_!" (4)

"_Pourquoi_," asked LaMarque. (5)

"He must know," yelled Arcenau. He wasn't quite sure what was driving him. "He must know your story, and mine, and everyone's. London must know! We will tell them. We will do anything to say that we do not deserve the fate they have planned for us. We are changed! _Je le sais_!" (6)

"Everyone changed," asked LaMarque skeptically.

"_Oui_," said Arcenau heatedly. "This place has changed us. This war changes everyone. They know that. London is not just a name. It is people. They must know. We can fight this LaMarque!"

LaMarque blinked, but then smiled. "We could you know. If all of us said something."

"_Exactement,_" said Arcenau excitedly. "We must be able to show them something. _Venez_." He grabbed LaMarque's arm and started for Barracks 2. (7)

"Just one second," said LaMarque, pulling himself away. "Why, all the sudden, were you so interested in me?"

Arcenau smiled sheepishly. "Well, I was thinking. I did used to hate you. I do not know really why. Maybe just because you were an American. But I was thinking. You had to have done something. There must have been something about you that made us similar, aside from living in this dump, else London wouldn't want you. So, I just asked, and now I know we are more similar than I thought."

"Took you long enough," said LaMarque sharply. "I hardly said a cross word to you, and you'd bite my head off.

"So I was a bit snappy," confessed Arcenau. "But you look like the forgiving type."

LaMarque's cool expression did not change. "Guess what I told that fella who sent the hit man: I'm coming back for him."

Arcenau frowned a bit uncertainly. "Um…okay?"

LaMarque couldn't hold it in any longer, and bust out laughing. "Oh, man, you should've seen your face. That was priceless."

Arcenau scowled, un-amused. He grabbed LaMarque's arm again, and yanked him towards Barracks 2. "Now shut up and act respectable. We got to start acting that way if we want to be taken serious by London."

LaMarque stood up a bit straighter but couldn't wipe the smug grin off his face. "I got you good."

* * *

(1) A murderer

(2) I know

(3) this saying is a popular inside joke for Louisianians. We have had historically, dirty politics, and then we have one of our favorite dishes, dirty rice, which is just brown rice spiced up a lot. If you've never had any, go get some. And make sure it's the real kind!

(4) Quickly! Let's go find Colonel Hogan!

(5) Why?

(6) I know it!

(7) Exactly. Come on.


	8. The Beginning of the Fight

**Chapter 8--The Beginning of the Fight**

It was the following day, just after morning roll call. The men had come in, ready to sit down for breakfast, when Newkirk had told LeBeau that the previous day he had noticed they were missing uniform downstairs. So, both had gone down to inspect their precious work.

While waiting, Kinch got Carter in on a game of gin. But Kinch noticed that Carter was acting funny. The younger American was stealing shifty glances at the tunnel entrance, looking more nervous with every passing second. Kinch would follow his gaze, and notice nothing wrong. Soon, Kinch's curiosity could not stand it anymore.

"Carter, is something wrong?"

Carter opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted.

_BAM!_

A cry…a scuffle…more unintelligible shouting…wait for it…

"CARTER!"

Carter winced, even though he had been expecting that cry of rage to emanate from below. Now that he was hearing it, though, as well as the sounds of someone stomping up the ladder, he was having second thoughts. He purposely turned his back to the tunnel as he tried to play gin with Kinch. Kinch smiled at him.

"Oh, you are so dead," said Kinch slyly.

Colonel Hogan came out of his office. "What's going on now?"

Any questions anyone had were ceased when Newkirk bounded out of the tunnel. Everyone tried not to gasp at his appearance. The entire anterior part of his body was covered in some kind of black dirt or soot. His face was barely recognizable, but even then, everyone could see how angry he was. Some tried not to laugh, because in the context of the past few days, it was very funny.

"Turn around Carter," said Newkirk. The way he ordered it made Cater want to melt into the wall. But how could he not want to? It was Newkirk…punishment was inevitable. He knew he was going to get it. Before slowly turning around, he sent a pleading look to Colonel Hogan. Hogan did nothing but cross his arms and shrug as if to say: _It's your problem._

When he was turned around, Newkirk was in his face in half a second. The rough Englishman grabbed him by his collar and hefted him off the bench.

"Wot the bloody 'ell did you do," he asked. "You could've gotten me an' Louie killed!"

"You and Louie," asked Carter in a quiet, pathetic voice.

To answer him, LeBeau came out of the tunnel looking just like Newkirk, and just as angry.

"Yes, me _and_ Louie," repeated Newkirk.

Carter sort of smiled, but it waned off. "Um…well…I didn't think…I though it would just be you…I'll shut up now."

"You know Newkirk and I work down there together," said LeBeau. "If you were going to get him, then you should 'ave picked a more specific time."

"Hey," said Scotty. "He got two birds with one stone. There's nothing wrong with that."

Kinch was eyeing the vengeful expressions on Newkirk and LeBeau. He grimaced. "Yeah there is."

"Oh yeah," agreed Newkirk. He let go of Carter with a littler push. "Sleep wif one eye open, mate."

"_Oui_," said LeBeau. "One for _moi_ as well."

Carter smiled lamely, and watched them go back down into the tunnel to clean themselves off. As soon as the tunnel was closed, the barracks descended upon Carter.

"Nice, Carter!"

"How did you do it?"

"Whatdid you do?"

"Man, they're gonna pull you apart!"

"Hey, for something like that, you can have a piece of chocolate from my box."

"Yeah, about time someone got back at them Europeans."

"Carter, what exactly _did_ you do?"

The last question, which had come from Colonel Hogan, sparked everyone to be quiet and listen to Carter.

"Well," he started off softly. "I didn't do much. I just made these two little grenades that were filled with soot from the stove. I made it so that when they opened up the sewing kits it would blow up in their faces. But I didn't realize they'd make such a big mess." He smiled sheepishly.

The guys chuckled and broke up.

"Well," said Kinch. "Now you'll just have to deal with both of them wanting revenge."

Carter grimaced. "Yeah, I had kinda forgot about that when I was planning it."

"Hey," said Hogan. "It_ was_ clever. Next time, let us get on it."

The door opened up quickly, and someone called, "Colonel Hogan!"

Carter spun around with his hands up. "I didn't do it! I promise!"

Arcenau and LaMarque looked down at Carter with confusion.

"Oh," said Carter. "Um…never mind."

"You called," asked Hogan, looking at LaMarque and Arcenau.

"_Oui, mon Colonèl,_" said Arcenau, standing up straighter. "I would like to tell you that LaMarque here was framed for the crimes he was said to have committed, which would be the same reasons London wants him on this suicide mission."

LaMarque's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Colonel, that's not exactly why we came here. We just to really say that we want to fight this too. We don't want you to have to fight them alone. We were thinking, maybe if we told London our sides of the story, they could see it. No one here has done anything terrible. As in, none of the men chosen have ever murdered another man. Not in cold blood."

Hogan sighed. "I know that," he said. "And maybe London knows that. But who knows what their actual ideas about all of this really are."

"Well," said Arcenau vehemently. "They think that _he_ murdered someone." He pointed to LaMarque. Everyone looked at him. "_Mais c'est vrais pas._"

"What's not true," asked LeBeau. He and Newkirk were coming out of the tunnels, having dusted themselves off.

Scotty caught Newkirk's eye and pointed to his forehead. "You've got some left over right there." Newkirk annoyingly went to brush it off. But Scotty shook his head. "No, more to the left…no not right there silly, more up…oh never mind, that was just a shadow."

The men laughed, and even Hogan smiled as he quieted everyone down again. He looked at LeBeau to answer the Frenchman's question. "Apparently, LaMarque was framed for a murder, which is why London wants him!"

"Bloody 'ell," said Newkirk. "We can't 'ave some bloke who's not even a criminal to be in on this."

"Well," said LaMarque. "I wasn't not a criminal. I was a smuggler."

"But you weren't caught," said Carter. "Doncha see? If you can prove you were framed, then you'll be Scott-free."

LaMarque sighed. "But I don't want to just save myself. What about these other guys? Look, Arcneau said it! If we could make London see our sides of the story, and that we're needed here, than we could at least keep ourselves alive. I don't care so much about clearing my record. I just want to not end up on some suicide mission…well, away from here I mean."

Hogan shook his head. "Maybe they should take you guys for stubbornness. Ok, here's the plan so far, and tell the other guys: I'm calling them back today, and I'm talking to General Butler, who's _our _General. I never got to talk to him yesterday. If I can talk to him, I think I can get my point across more clearly."

"And what do we do," asked Newkirk. "I'd like to be doin' more than sittin' on me arse waitin' for the verdict."

No one had a quick answer for that.

"Be good," suggested Kinch.

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "That it?"

"Well," said Kinch in defense. "Look at it this way. LaMarque is right. What if you can get London to see it your way?"

"And how do you propose we do that," asked LaMarque. "I didn't get that far into the plan."

"Write up your stories and we can send them off to London or something with the next courier plane," answered Carter quickly.

"That will 'ave about the same effect as you 'ave when you say you are going for a walk after lights-out," said LeBeau. The others chuckled as Carter blushed.

"Well, I dunno," said Carter. "It was just an idea. I mean, from our positions, that _is_ the only way."

"That's right," said Hogan. "But the military doesn't take letters from its soldiers when they want to complain about their jobs. And we don't have Senators over here. Good try, Carter, but it won't work that way."

"Yea, mate," said Newkirk. "If some letter wif me name showed up, they'd toss it in the fire."

LeBeau elbowed him in the ribs. "Not unless you mailed it with money."

"You can't blackmail the army," said Newkirk.

"You know what I mean," said LeBeau.

"Okay, okay," said Hogan. "Just spread the word about what I'm going to do. As for the rest of you guys. If you can come up with something, go for it." He looked at Kinch. "Alright, let's go get London on the radio so that I can have a nice long talk with them."

Kinch smiled and got up quickly. "Yes, sir."

He went down the tunnel.

"What about breakfast," asked LeBeau. "I was just about to start."

Hogan looked at him and Newkirk smacked his shoulder. "There are lives at stake 'ere!"

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "I know. Let them take you and your 'orrible coffee, and perhaps our lives shall be spared."

Newkirk faked a hurt expression as the others chuckled. Hogan shook his head as he started to go down. But he poked his head up one more time.

"Oh, yeah, and Carter," he said.

"Yes, sir?"

"You didn't do anything to the radio, did you?"

"Oh, no sir."

"Ok, good."

"Good luck, Guv'nor."

"For your sake, I hope I've got the luck on my side, Newkirk."

With that, he headed down to the radio.


	9. A Nice Chat and An Unexpected Visitor

**Chapter 9--A N****ice**** C****hat ****and An U****nexpected V****isitor**

"Papa Bear to Mama Bear, over."

For the third time, static met their ears. Kinch looked at Hogan in defeat.

"Sir, you think they're avoiding us," he asked.

"They sure as hell know I wasn't going to take this lying down," said Hogan. "Maybe they are avoiding us." He crossed his arms determinedly. "But call them again."

"Mama Bear to Papa Bear, over," said Kinch in a stern tone. "Please, mama bear, come over, this is an emergency, over."

Hogan raised his eyebrows. "We're not even on the emergency frequency."

"Too bad," said Kinch. "But I know that one of those Goldilocks girls is sitting right there listening to us. She has to pick up eventually."

"Don't doubt the stubbornness of those British birds, old chap," said Hogan playfully.

To be more insistent, Kinch switched to the emergency frequency. Hogan smiled, and Kinch repeated: "This Papa Bear. We have an urgent message for the Mama Bear. Must speak immediately. Over."

More static, and Hogan turned away angrily, taking his crush cap off and tossing it onto another workbench haughtily.

"Mama Bear to Papa Bear, over?"

Kinch nearly dropped the microphone in surprise and delight at hearing General Butler's very recognizable voice. Hogan turned around and took the microphone from Kinch.

"This is Papa Bear, are we free to speak Mama Bear? Over."

There was some static that followed for a moment, and Hogan thought they had been ignored again. But General Butler answered.

"Yes, Colonel, we're free to speak," he said. "No doubt you are inquiring about yesterday."

"Absolutely," Hogan sharply replied. "Excuse me, sir, for my tone, but I wanted to talk to you directly, sir. They wouldn't let me yesterday."

"Actually," replied Butler. "At the time they called you, I was being informed myself of the plan in a staff meeting. When I told them that I wanted to talk to you before I said anything, they wouldn't allow it. In fact, I was not really a part of any planning. I think they thought I was surely against it."

"Well, are you sir," asked Hogan apprehensively and wishfully.

"Positively," replied Butler without any hesitation. Kinch and Hogan visibly relaxed some. Butler went on. "They cannot just remove any of your men like that. I'm quite sure you need everyone. Not to mention, I thought their ethics on this was rather crude as well. Everyone at the staff meeting saw the files of the men that were selected."

"They're painting a pretty picture aren't they," commented Hogan with thick sarcasm.

"Certainly trying to," answered Butler. "Once they told me I couldn't speak to you, I started fighting it. I said we had no problems with any of these men. Of course, when I saw Corporal Newkirk was on the list, I told them that he was directly under my command, being one of your command crew, and that he was not to be touched. If anything, I think I can keep him out of it. The others, though, well, I'm not sure."

Hogan felt immense relief wash over him upon hearing that Newkirk might be spared. But he felt guilty for feeling that relief too, because the other men were not out yet. He looked at Kinch, who looked worried, but smiled.

"Sir," said Hogan. "I have another one you can look into. There's a Private Stefan LaMarque, who was framed for murder. Could you have them look into that too? If it's criminals they want, he isn't one."

"Colonel, I frankly don't know what else I can do," said Butler. "They've covered a lot of ground prior to coming to us. Everywhere I turn, they've got it blocked."

Hogan clenched his fists in frustration. "What if we went straight to the top?"

"The top of where," asked Butler. "The secrecy of your operation doesn't leave us with much room to play with."

"The highest brass that knows about this," said Hogan. "If these missions they want my men for are a part of the grand scheme of the invasion, than we can bring this to the planning board. We don't have to give much. They know we're out here somewhere, and that's all they need to know. But if we can prove that my men are better of here than somewhere else, we could get them to leave them alone."

There was moment before Butler responded.

"Colonel," he said. "It could work, because no one can turn away something about the invasion. But you have to understand that someone needs to take care of these missions. They will eventually have to select someone for these missions. Your men are the best we have to choose from, because they already do it. I can maybe spare a few, if their cases are special, but I can't guarantee anything really. Someone has to do this."

Hogan shook his head at hearing his own words being used against him.

"I know, sir," he admitted. "I was only telling myself that yesterday. But General, this operation works because of the men I have around me. We can do things from here for the invasion. There has to be other people, other spies, who can be used. It's terrible to suggest that, I know, but I'd have to say our situation here is a bit hard to play from. I can't just have seven men disappear. Everything we do here takes careful planning."

"You don't have to tell any of that to me, Colonel," said Butler. "We have to tell these other people who want your men."

"Who are these people anyway, sir," asked Hogan.

"American Special Operations," said Butler. "The General you spoke to yesterday was General Marcus O'Reilly. He actually falls right beneath General Eisenhower."

Kinch whistled in awe.

"Well," said Hogan. "They may complicate things a bit."

"It might," said Butler. "And then again, it might not. Someone that close to General Eisenhower would be nice to use to get _to _General Eisenhower. Ike is a reasonable man."

Hogan had to smirk. "You're not suggesting that we go to General Eisenhower about this, do you?"

"Is this the clever and crazy Colonel Hogan who is infamous for creating the impossible, _doubting _a crazy plan," asked Butler.

"Yes it is," answered Hogan. "Isn't that going a bit far?"

"At first maybe," said Butler. "But it's your call. If we don't win earlier, would you go that far to keep your men?"

"I would go as far as I have to," said Hogan without hesitation. "You know that."

"I expected as much, Colonel," said Butler. "Now, if you can get in tonight, do you want to have a go at these people?"

"Definitely," said Hogan.

"Radio me if you can get out of camp," said Butler. "I'll need to know by 17:00."

"Yes, sir," said Hogan. "Expect a call back then."

"I will, Colonel," said Butler. "But call back on this frequency. The usual one isn't being worked by our Goldilocks anymore. As our good General O'Reilly told me this morning, 'retaliation from you or your men did not need to be dealt with.' "

"So what if it was a real emergency," asked Hogan. "Like a real mission?"

"This line is always safe, Hogan," assured Butler. "They don't know about it. Just because they are spies too, doesn't mean they know all of our secrets. My personal secretary is always manning this line. And trust me; she won't budge for any other general."

"Yes, sir," said Colonel Hogan. "Thank you, sir. I'll be calling you back later."

"I'll be standing by," said Butler. "Mama Bear, over an out."

"Papa Bear over and out," replied Hogan.

The line went to static. Kinch switched off the radio and put down the headset and microphone. "Well, sir, it was definitely a productive conversation."

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Now we know more about what we're dealing with here."

"Not to mention," said Kinch. "It looks like Newkirk is in the clear. He'll be glad to hear that."

Hogan smirked. "I'm sure he will be. Come on, let's go back upstairs. We can tell Newkirk that, and then get the others in here to have a talk."

"Right," said Kinch.

They come back upstairs to find the barracks empty except for Carter playing solitaire at the table, facing the door. When they came up, he looked up quickly, and grabbed one of LeBeau's metal pans, raising it in defense. Kinch and Hogan smiled sympathetically.

"I doubt they're going to come after you in a charge," said Kinch.

"And whatever they're scheming for you," said Hogan. "I don't think a frying pan is going to help."

Carter sighed and put the pan down. "Probably not, but I don't want to be completely defenseless. Did you get General Butler, sir?"

"Yep," said Hogan. "And we had a nice chat. But I don't want to repeat myself so before I say anything everyone needs to get back here. Where is everyone anyway?"

"A soccer game," said Carter, rolling his eyes. "French versus the English. There was some kind of fight in another barracks--not a fist fight--but bickering you know, and it resulted in a challenge. Arcenau came running back in to get Newkirk and LeBeau into it. Well, it's a big rivalry, so everyone had to go."

"Except you," asked Kinch.

"With all those Europeans out there," said Carter. "If I went out, I'm bound to get clobbered for getting into their prank fest. No, I think I'm safer in here."

To prove his point, the door opened and Scotty and Forrest came in soaking wet.

"What happened to you two," asked Kinch.

"Water balloons," said Scotty.

"What," asked Hogan.

"They disguised the soccer ball as a water balloon," said Forrest. He pulled a towel from a locker. "It was one giant trick to get the Americans."

"You're kidding," said Carter, suddenly looking triumphant. "It was a trap?"

More of their bunkmates came in, most of them wet, if not completely soaked.

"I'm guessing there was more than one soccer ball," said Hogan.

"They had them disguised as baseballs too," said one man.

"I don't know how they did it," said Scotty. "But they're good."

"Where are they now," asked Carter.

"Celebrating probably," said Kinch. He and Hogan went to the door and looked out. Sure enough, most of the Europeans were gathered out on the compound, laughing and exploding more water balloons. There weren't any more Americans left out in the open compound, but others were darting around the barracks for cover. The guards were baffled, and Hogan saw Klink watching from his office window with a perplexed expression.

Hogan sighed. "They're gonna all be sent to the cooler."

"At least we'll be safer," said Kinch.

Hogan saw Klink shut his window. "Maybe the Kommandant is feeling better today now that there aren't any cockroaches in his cigar box."

"Should we go get them," asked Kinch.

"I'll go," said Hogan. "I see Newkirk over there. Hopefully, he'll have the common sense not to bomb his commanding officer."

Kinch watched Hogan step out cautiously. The other Europeans just laughed but didn't throw anything. Hogan quickly made his way over to Newkirk. LeBeau hurried over as well.

"Hey, guess what," said Hogan.

"Yes, Guv'nor," asked Newkirk, seeing that Hogan was in a good mood. "Wot did General Butler say?"

"You're in the clear buddy," said Newkirk. "General Butler got you out!"

Newkirk whooped and tossed the balloon he was holding in the air. LeBeau grabbed his arm and they started dancing around like fools. Hogan was so busy watching and laughing at them he did not notice that the balloon was falling towards him. With a nice _splat_ it landed on the top of his crush cap. Hogan closed his eyes as water trickled down his face an onto his bomber jacket.

Newkirk and LeBeau stopped dancing, and LeBeau smacked Newkirk across the chest.

"_Tu imbécile_," he said. "Look what you did."

Newkirk stepped forward, whisking off his cover and started using it to dry Hogan's jacket. "Sorry Guv'nor. Didn't mean to toss it on you. Just got a bit excited was all."

Hogan opened his eyes and looked heavenward. He pulled off his crush cap, and shook it to get the water off.

"Don't worry about it Newkirk," he said. "I'll just go hang it up on the clothesline."

Newkirk stepped away with a sheepish smile. "Sorry?"

"It's okay," said Hogan softly. "Can you do me a favor, though?"

"Sure, anything sir," said Newkirk.

"Round up everyone who was selected and bring them to Barracks 2," said Hogan. "We need to have a talk. And make sure everyone who steps in the room is prank free."

"Will do Guv'nor," said Newkirk. "Are we all in the clear?"

Hogan shook his head. "No, just you so far. But never mind. Just go get everyone."

"Yes, sir," said Newkirk, a bit more sober now. Hogan turned and left, and when he did, LeBeau started laughing again.

"'Is face was priceless," said LeBeau. "And you are going to get it from 'im later."

"Oh, sod off you Frog," said Newkirk. "It was an accident. Besides, 'e'll come after you too, since you really did pull one on 'im."

LeBeau could not find a remark for that, and Newkirk raised his eyebrows.

"Come one," he said. "Let's just go find the others."

But as they started to go, they stopped as the gates opened up, and a Gestapo staff car rolled in. The laughter in the compound ceased. Newkirk and LeBeau looked at one another, and then hurried off to Barracks 2.

* * *

**General Marcus O'Reilly is my own character.


	10. A Turn of Events

**Chapter 10--A Turn ****of ****Events**

"Sir, Gestapo rolling in!"

Hogan stopped drying his hair and tossed the towel aside as he went to the door where Kinch and Carter stood watching the compound. The three stepped out to meet Newkirk and LeBeau who were quickly walking over.

"Great," said Hogan. "I had thought I'd have a chance to get away tonight, but it doesn't look like that's gonna happen."

"Go out tonight," asked Carter.

"To London," answered Hogan. "General Butler and I were going to have a meeting with the Special Ops, but I think it's going to be General Butler alone."

They watched as the staff car parked in front of Klink's office. An unfamiliar Gestapo officer stepped out, more calmly than Hochstetter ever had. He waited for his aide to get out, and then together they went into Klink's office.

"Wonder who that is," said Newkirk.

"Let's go listen in," said Hogan. "Quick."

They hurried into Hogan's office and switched on the coffeepot just in time to hear Klink greet the visitor.

"_Well, Major, what a surprise,_" he said. "_What's your reason to visit Stalag 13?_"

"_Nothing particular_," responded the visitor. "_My aide and I were passing through. We have never been in a prison camp before, so we thought we might see how the best runs._"

As Klink began to ramble on about their efficiency, Newkirk said, "Wot a liar. Every Gestapo officer 'as seen a prison camp before."

"But he sure knows how to play up Klink," said Carter. "Listen to him go."

"—_all the other kommandants are always asking me, how do you do it Wilhelm…_"

Hogan rolled his eyes. "Quite the guy isn't he? Well, we're going to meet who this mystery man is if he's gonna get a grand tour. Klink never misses the opportunity to show how tamed his SPO is."

"But now you can go to London," said LeBeau. "Since it does not look like this officer is staying."

"I don't know," said Hogan. "Something about him is fishy. Like Newkirk said: every Gestapo officer has seen a prison camp before. So why would this guy tell a lie to come here and get a tour?"

"Think he suspects us," asked Kinch.

"Possible," said Hogan.

"…_I hear you have a certain American officer here…Colonel Robert Hogan, no?_"

"_Yes, we do_," answered Klink. "_What is your interest in him_?"

"_Nothing particular,_" replied the Major again. "_I have never met the enemy before either_."

"Liar again," said Newkirk.

"Shhh," said LeBeau.

"_Well, you can meet him right away,_" said Klink. "_I will have my Sergeant fetch him_."

"_There is no need,_" said Major. "_I would like to meet these prisoners in their element._"

Hogan switched off the coffeepot. "In their element. What a pig. These Nazis think too much of themselves. We're in their element for goodness sakes."

"What now," asked Kinch.

"We be good little prisoners and found out more about this Mystery Major," said Hogan. "As soon as we get his name we'll do a background check through London, and find out more about him."

"_Achtung!"_

They all looked to the door when they heard Schultz call the men to attention.

"Ok," said Hogan. "You fellas know how to play this."

LeBeau, who was closest to the door, opened it up, only to find Klink staring down at him.

"Cockroach, what are you doing in here," asked Klink.

"We were planning our escape," said Hogan. "But as usual, you came right in the crucial moment. What can we do for you Kommandant?"

"You and your men can step out here," ordered Klink. "We have a visitor."

"Hey," said Hogan defensively, as they filed out of the office. "You should've warned us. We would've cleaned the place up a bit."

"You see, Major," said Klink, turning towards the doorway. "This is how I keep my men in line. Surprises."

Hogan hesitated when he saw their visitor in the doorway.

"This our guest," he asked.

The Gestapo Major stepped in from the door extending his hand to Hogan.

"Major Emmerich Amsel," he said, introducing himself. "You are Colonel Hogan, no?"

"That would be me," said Hogan, shaking the Major's hand. "But Emmerich is a funny name. You look more like a Hans to me. Nice and simple."

Amsel smirked as he drew his hand away from Hogan.

"Nice and simple was not what my parents had in mind I suppose," said Amsel. "So, Klink, these are your prisoners." He walked around looking them all up and down with a smug sneer.

"Only a small portion," answered Klink quickly. "There are several hundred men in this camp."

"That is not very big is it," asked Amsel. "Considering other camps' sizes."

"Perhaps," said Klink. "But the camp was built small."

"I would like to talk to a few," said Amsel suddenly as he stopped in front of Newkirk. "Just to talk to the enemy."

"Talk to them," asked Klink for clarification.

"_Ja_," said Amsel. "In the cooler. I want him—" he pointed to Newkirk, whose eyebrows rose in surprise. "—and him." Amsel turned and pointed to Hogan. "You can put them in the cooler now."

"Certainly," said Klink. His certainty, though, diminished some inside. He did not like the idea f having to put his Senior Prisoner and one of his men into the cooler with the Gestapo to have at it. But he also knew that he could not refuse the Gestapo. "Schultz, take Colonel Hogan and _der Engländer_ to the cooler."

"_Jawohl, Herr Kommandant_," said Schultz. He looked at Hogan and Newkirk. "Come on you two."

Newkirk looked uncertainly at LeBeau, and then took reluctant steps towards the door. Hogan shot a glare at Amsel, and then followed Newkirk out the door. Schultz went after them.

"I have a question for you, Klink," said Amsel. "What would these prisoners do if their senior officer was seriously hurt, or his life was put in more danger than it already is in?"

Klink swallowed. "I have feared a riot at times, Major. All these men are very loyal to each other. In recent times, with our food situation because of the mess hall being burned down, there have been some tense moments where we were able to cooperate because of their loyalty to one another. I guess all I can say is that they would get very worried and angry at whoever put his life in danger."

"I thought as much," said Amsel. He looked around at the prisoners who were eyeing him suspiciously. "And would that same go for the other way around?"

"You mean would Colonel Hogan feel the same," asked Klink. Amsel nodded. "Yes; most definitely. Colonel Hogan has always stood up for his men and put their protection above everything."

Amsel smiled. "That is what I thought as well. _Gut_. That will be all _Kommandant_. I will be in the cooler, and for now I suggest you make sure these prisoners stay inside their holes."

"They will," said Klink.

With that, the Kommandant and Major Amsel left Barracks Two, leaving the men speechless.

***** ***** *****

Major Amsel, with his aide at his side, entered the cooler. He went to the cell where Sergeant Schultz stood guard out of.

"You may go," he told Schultz. "The prisoners are safe with my aide and myself."

Schultz nodded nervously and left, handing the keys to the aide. The aide unlocked the cell door, and walked in, followed by Amsel. The two prisoners looked over to the door way. They had both been standing on the far side, and both of them did not appear nervous in the least. Amsel's aide shut the door behind him, and for a long moment, the four men stared at each other.

Then, a smile broke out over Hogan's face and he stepped forward.

"Nice to see you Morrison," he said, shaking Amsel's hand.

Amsel, formerly known to the prisoners as Major Hans Teppel of the Abwehr, and also as Robert J. Morrison, smiled and shook Hogan's hand fiercely.

"It's good to see you too, Hogan," he said. "I trust you recognize this young man as well." He gestured to his aide.

"O' course we recognize this old boy," said Newkirk. "Never thought I'd see the day that you walked around in a Gestapo uniform Pepin."

Pepin Bachmeier, a local Underground member and good friend of the saboteurs that lived at Stalag 13, greeted Newkirk and Hogan with a warm smile as well.

"Well, it's nice to see you too Peter," said Pepin sarcastically. "Nice to see you back on your feet too."

"Yea, it is nice," said Newkirk, thinking back to only a month ago when he had been confined to a bed in the infirmary because of his broken back."

"Well, you should have seen _Mutter's_ face when I pulled this out," said Pepin, tugging on the Gestapo uniform. "I think she thought I was really an agent at first."

"Hey," said Hogan. "When you can fool your own mother that's a good disguise."

"_Ja_," said Pepin. "But this is _too_ good."

"It ought to be," said Newkirk. "I stole that one."

Morrison's smile disappeared and he looked at Hogan. "That is the reason I am here."

"Because I stole a Gestapo uniform," asked Newkirk.

"No," said Morrison. "Because of what London thinks of you, and six other men in this camp."

"How do you know about that," asked Hogan.

"General Butler informed me yesterday," answered Morrison. "He said he was unable to get in touch with you."

"Yeah, until about ten minutes ago," said Hogan. "I just got off the radio with him. He never said anything about you."

"He doesn't know I'm here, if that's what you mean," said Morrison. "I didn't know I was coming here either till this morning. You see I've been working with the Underground lately in other regions. Since the fall of the Abwehr, that's all I've been able to do at all. (1) I have stayed in contact with General Butler, though, and when he contacted me last night I was concerned about this affair because I remember these men and even I would trust them."

"I don't know where you're going with this," said Hogan.

"Look," said Morrison. "My work here is done really. I was to infiltrate the system, and I did, up until I could. Lately I have just been doing meager works of sabotage: blow up a bridge here, rob a train there. Not to mention that I've been in Germany too long now. My face is hanging on the wanted list all over the country. I am a hazard now to any group. So, I am going back to Britain. And when I return, I will file a complete report for your men in order to protect them. They are needed here, and I am a witness to that."

Hogan smiled. "I'm glad for you, that you can finally go back. Do you have any plans for when?"

"Not yet," answered Morrison. "I have trouble staying in one place for long."

"Well, don't worry then," said Hogan. "I have to go to London tonight, for a meeting about this stuff. You can come with me."

Morrison's eyes went wide. "Really? You mean it? Tonight?"

"As long as you give one 'ell o' a report for us," said Newkirk.

"Newkirk," said Hogan in a reprimanding tone.

"Just jokin'," said Newkirk. "Don't worry Major, we'll 'ave you out faster than you can say _Auf Wiedersehen._"

"Well then," said Morrison. "This sure does make life easier right now."

"That's what we do," said Hogan. "Glad to be of service."

"Yes, that is what you do," said Morrison. "But we'll need a plan."

"Don't worry," said Hogan. "I already got one."

***** ***** *****

Hogan and Newkirk watched the car leave the camp, and then headed back to the barracks.

"Well," said Newkirk. "That sure was a turn of events. When I saw that car first come in, I was sure it was old 'Ochstetter already out of bed an' ready to make life miserable."

"Me too," said Hogan. "But I hear he's still banged up from that car wreck."

"Hey, the longer the better," said Newkirk, as they stepped back into the barracks.

"What was Major Teppel doing back," asked Carter. Everyone else waited for the answer as well.

"He came because General Butler contacted him about our situation," answered Hogan. "But we're going to get him out of Germany tonight when I go to London. He's going to sit in that meeting with the General and I as well. Hopefully, with another spy who's been in the Abwehr for so long will add weight to our side."

"It has to," said Carter hopefully. "It just has to."

"What about Pepin," asked LeBeau.

"Morrison was over in the area," said Newkirk. " 'E can't stay in one place too long because 'e's wanted, but 'e's goin' to stay wif the Bachmeiers for today until we go get 'im tonight."

"Kinch," said Hogan. "Go radio London to tell them to pick us up at 22:00."

"Isn't that kind of earlier than usual," said Kinch.

"We need more time," said Hogan. "Besides, I don't know how these other guys react to late night meetings. And don't forget to radio Butler back on his frequency."

"Yes, sir," said Kinch. He went downstairs to make the call.

"Newkirk," said Hogan. "Go gather up the other six and bring them back here."

"Righto Guv'nor," said Newkirk. He bounded out the door with a bit more energy in his step.

"Carter," said Hogan. "Gather up some writing paper. We're going to need a good amount."

"You got it Colonel," said Carter. He went down into the tunnels as well.

"And LeBeau," said Hogan at last.

"_Oui_, _mon Colonèl_," answered LeBeau, praying that he would not be told to make any food.

"Go make sure our blacks are already for tonight," said Hogan. "We're all going out."

LeBeau smiled. He had a feeling that it would be a successful evening.

* * *

(1) The Abwehr was shut down by Hitler and Himmler in February 1944. This would mean that at the time of my story the Abwehr has been gone for about two months. So, that's why Morrison is on the run.

Hope you're enjoying it so far!


	11. Precious Paper

**_HAPPY VETERAN'S DAY!!! GOD BLESS AMERICA AND ALL THOSE WHO SERVE FREEDOM!!!_**

* * *

**Chapter 11--P****recious**** P****aper**

"Just write the good stuff Pierre."

"Oh yeah, that'll work: Dear Mr. Special Ops General; don't pick me because I was really just a poor misguided lad who stole from 'bout every 'ouse in West End at one point or another an' was on one gang that was known for numerous unsolved murders. Good day mate!"

LeBeau sighed. "Can you never not be sarcastic?"

"That wouldn't be me _mon ami_," remarked Newkirk.

"Please, I do not want to 'ear your 'orrible French," groaned LeBeau.

"I was just rhymin'," pouted Newkirk.

"Rhyme in some other language," demanded LeBeau.

"Fine…_ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.  
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,  
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.  
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee." _(1)

"What was that," asked Kinch, looking disturbed.

"I dunno," said Newkirk. "Some rhyme I remember readin' in one o' those books Wilson would bring me while I was in the infirmary."

"I'm sorry," said Kinch.

Newkirk snorted. "Gee, it's 'elpin' now."

"We are trying to 'elp you," said LeBeau with frustration. "Write what you told me down. There was nothing wrong with that. It was 'onest."

"Well, you're one o' me best mates who I've lived wif for almost four years," argued Newkirk. He pushed the pencil and paper across the table from him. "Writin' all this down for some ruddy General who already thinks I'm mud is different! Besides, the Colonel already said I'm in the clear."

"But we don't know for sure," said Kinch. He pushed the pencil and paper back to Newkirk. "So write something down Newkirk. For your own sake. Whoever reads this'll probably forget it all after while anyway, there's so much going on. Now write!"

Newkirk snatched up the pencil, glaring at Kinch. LeBeau rolled his eyes and went back to the stove where he had been cooking their early dinner. When he turned, he noticed Carter perched up on Newkirk's bunk writing as well.

"And what are you writing Carter," he asked.

"Oh, just a letter," said Carter.

"Too who," asked Kinch.

"Mary Jane."

"You're not still on 'bout 'er, are you," asked Newkirk. "You never decided to dump 'er?"

"Never," said Carter. "I'm goin' back home to marry her when this is all over. She said she was sorry. And she is. She's never done a mean thing in her life and really mean it. Not even when were were younger, when we—"

"Walked 'ome from school everyday an' you carried 'er books an' so on," said Newkirk. "Oh yea, an' you carried 'er when the snow got 'igh. We remember."

"Don't be too hard, Newkirk," said Kinch.

"I won't," replied the Englishman furtively. He looked up at Carter. "An' why are you on my bunk? Wot's wrong wif yours?"

"It's not inspiring enough," said Carter.

"Inspiring enough for what," asked LeBeau.

"To write to a girl," answered Carter.

"Gee, thanks," said Newkirk. "I'm glad you think so 'ighly o' me in that regard. But if I find one thing wrong wif me bunk tonight, then you'll be tossed outside. I don't trust you anymore Andrew. You might make my blanket explode or somethin'."

"Hey, that's a good idea," said Carter.

"Andrew," warned Newkirk.

"I think you inspired him the wrong way," said Kinch.

"Don't worry," said Carter. "That would be a bit out there."

"Blowing up a sewing kit was out there," muttered LeBeau darkly.

"No, that was clever," corrected Kinch. He looked at Newkirk and patted the piece of empty paper. "Write Peter. This is due today."

"You sound like a ruddy teacher," complained Newkirk as he picked up his pencil again. "This would be one o' the reasons why I ditched school."

"Just get it over with already and stop complaining," said LeBeau.

"Okay, okay," said Newkirk. "Stop naggin' me about it. This isn't your life story we're tellin'."

LeBeau chose not to remark, because he knew Newkirk would just talk back and nothing would ever be written in time. Newkirk was supposed to be writing down what he had been convicted for, in his own words, because then it would go back to London with Hogan and Morrison. All the selected men were doing this, so that there might be something that could be found to help them. In LaMarque's case, it was hopeful. LeBeau did not know everyone's stories, but he did know that none of them were cold-blooded murderers or anything else that was cruel or sick. Most of them were like Newkirk's; growing up in a situation where they were surrounded by criminals and poverty, and just trying to find a way out without very much guidance. Then, of course, they had had a turn of bad luck when finally caught. Or good luck perhaps in some cases, because some, like Newkirk, had changed. The bad luck was now, where their records said they had gone to prison.

There were other prisoners in the camp that had some shady backgrounds as well, too. In a camp this large, there were bound to be people with all sorts of backgrounds. Colonel Hogan had tried to wheedle out anyone that would definitely not fit, but there was only so much he could do. There had been Williams, a total disgrace to the uniform, not because of any background, but because of his rotten attitude. That was what everyone liked about Colonel Hogan. He did not worry about your past, but rather thought in the present and what he thought one was capable of at the time. It was that kind of thinking that had him select the people he had selected to be on his team; the kind of thinking that had made other men think twice about messing with other people because there was no point.

Now, it was a wonder to the men in this camp that London could not see it like they did. They knew everyone was not a Colonel Hogan but why could people not try to do thing differently? They knew someone had to get this job done, but why were people singled out for such reasons? The past was the past; leave it there.

Only a short half-hour later, Newkirk finally put his pencil down, looking satisfied. The eraser on the pencil was rubbed down to the hilt, and Newkirk had had to sharpen the pencil quite a few times. But he had only taken the front of the paper.

"There," he announced. "All done."

Kinch, ever the scholar, snatched it up, and looked it over with a fine critiquing eye. "You misspelled neighborhood."

"I did not," snapped Newkirk, snatching the paper away. He scanned quickly through it. "That is definitely how you spell it!"

"There is no _u_ in neighborhood," argued Kinch.

"There is in the correct form," Newkirk argued back. "As in the proper English. Not that stuff you ruddy Yanks speak."

"I do not think you 'ave room to talk," remarked LeBeau. He took his pot off the stove and put it under Newkirk's nose. The Englishman leaned back with a repulsive expression.

"I don't wanna taste it," he said. "Ask Kinch, he knows more about your culinary delights than I do. As long as you don't ask him to spell it."

"Ha, ha," said Kinch sarcastically. "What is it LeBeau?"

"_Cassoulet_," answered LeBeau with passion. "Pork, _du veau_, and some white beans."

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Newkirk. He leaned forward some.

"One more move and it goes all over your paper," warned LeBeau quickly.

Newkirk jumped up with his paper. "Fine. See wot compliments you get when I finally get a bite."

"No one listens to you talk about food anyway," said Carter, still up on Newkirk's bunk.

Newkirk noticed him again. "You still up there, mate? Quite some letter you're writin'." He noticed that Carter's pencil was in the same condition as his own.

"Well," said Carter. "I haven't written to her in awhile, since we've been so busy. And she sent me a letter over a month ago. I just want this one to be perfect."

"Yeah," said Newkirk disinterestedly. "Say, while you're up there, can you do me a favor an' put this in me cupboard?"

"Sure," said Carter, carefully placing his letter aside. He took Newkirk's paper and turned around to face the wall. Newkirk's "cupboard" was actually a hollow space in the wall where he had removed one board. He kept some letters and pictures in the space between the inside board and the outside board. Carter placed the paper inside and put the board back in place.

When he turned back around, he saw that Newkirk had already gone back to the table and was trying to get Kinch into playing a round of gin. LeBeau was back at the stove, muttering on about something Kinch had said about his food. The other men were starting to gather back inside, sensing that the meal was almost complete. And Colonel Hogan came out from his office, and found himself dealt into the game of gin. Carter smiled, enjoying the 'normal' scene before him. It was normal because this was what they should normally be doing as prisoners of war. But it was not normal because by all rights, none of them should have been forced into this hole.

Comfortably, though, Carter went back to writing his precious letter.

* * *

(1) …ABC, that cat ran in the snow. And as it then home came, there hatt´it white boots at. ABC, that cat ran in the snow

Okay, that's a crazy rhyme I know. But it's real! There's more to it, because it's about teaching the alphabet. That's just the first stanza.


	12. Unsuspected Sacrifice

A/N: There was a question about the Abwehr and the context of this story. I had a typo at the bottom of chapter 10, which said that the Abwehr had been disbanded in February 1945. Ot was actually February 1944. Sorry about that, but I've corrected it. Anyway, on with the story!

* * *

**Chapter 12--U****nsuspected**** S****acrifice**

Out on a farm in the German countryside, an older woman stood in a window on the second story of her farmhouse, overlooking the front of her house. She watched all over her property vigilantly in hopes of spotting any prowler before they reached her house. It was a pleasant evening; there was not a cloud in the sky, allowing even a quarter-moon to shine much silver light over the fields, which were no longer tilled. There were dark shadows that swayed with the gentle breeze on her front lawn, where tall oak trees still stood. It was early in the night, though, and there was still a lot of night to have. She was one who knew how much activity really went on at night when others were asleep.

So, even though she had been watching so alertly, she was not surprised when she heard her son's voice call her from downstairs.

"They are here Mutter," he said.

Analiese smiled and turned away from the window to go greet her guests. Downstairs, she found five men dressed in dark clothes standing in her den, beside her two sons and her husband. The family was the rest of the Bachmeiers. There was Pepin with his older brother Franz, and their father Karl. Analiese walked up to the men who had just come into her house and greeted them warmly.

"It is nice to see you all again," she said. "And safe this time."

"Trust me," said Hogan. "It's nice not to be running from anything either."

"Are you hungry," asked Analiese. "I made extra helpings of dinner tonight just for you."

"I wish I couldn't turn that away," said Hogan. "But I have to. Our plane is due in thirty minutes, and we have a mile to go."

"Understandable," said Karl. "Franz, go get Herr Morrison." He looked to the others. "He had gone to sleep; knowing tonight would be a late one."

"No problem wif that," said Newkirk, sitting down on the couch. "Wouldn't mind gettin' some shut eye meself."

The others rolled their eyes. "You just had a full night's rest last night," said Carter.

"You can't ever get too much sleep," said argued Newkirk.

"Yeah you can," said Kinch, pulling Newkirk off the chair. "And it turns out to be laziness."

"Well, Newkirk is already there," said LeBeau.

"Oh now, you all sound like my own boys," said Analiese.

"Now, now, Analiese," said Karl. "They are all eager to get things going, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are," said Hogan. He looked sternly at his crew. "But that doesn't mean that we have to forget anything about safety or protocol right?"

"I didn't know we had protocol," said Carter.

"Oh, Andrew," said Newkirk.

"Don't worry, Colonel," said Kinch. "We'll get home before roll call, and in one piece, and all together, and without any detours."

"That's right," said Hogan. Franz came back in the room with Morrison. "Ready?"

"You bet," said Morrison. "Can't wait to be surrounded by English speaking people again, even if it is a different sound."

"Well soon enough you'll be back in New York," said Carter.

"We'll see," replied Morrison. "I'm sure London will want to do something else with me."

Hogan checked his watch again. "Okay, we'd better go." He looked up at his crew. "Newkirk, Kinch, I want you to come with me and Morrison to meet the plane. Carter, LeBeau, you guys stay here. When we're gone, Newkirk and Kinch will come back and then all of you head back to camp."

"Aww, but Colonel, can't me and Kinch stay 'ere too," complained Newkirk. Hogan gave him a look and he just nodded. "Alright, will do Guv'nor. I'll take point."

He waved goodbye to everyone and then headed out the back door. Hogan rolled his eyes, and then followed Newkirk out the door with Morrison and Kinch. LeBeau shut the door behind them. "Good luck."

***** ***** *****

It did not take a whole thirty minutes to cover the mile, but Hogan wanted to be there early enough. They actually got there in about ten minutes, and stayed crouched in the bushes along the edge of the field, waiting quietly. Hogan sat with Morrison, while Kinch and Newkirk did a quick but thorough patrol of the area to make sure that there weren't any Germans around. They came back and sat with Morrison and Hogan.

"Nothin', Colonel," reported Newkirk.

"Same here," said Kinch. "It's all clear, sir."

"Good," said Hogan. "We don't need any surprises."

"Anymore than we've already gotten," murmured Newkirk.

"Listen," said Hogan, whispering urgently. They fell quiet.

"What is it," asked Kinch.

"I thought I heard something," said Hogan. "Over that way." He pointed west.

"I don't 'ear anythin'," said Newkirk, who was craning his neck.

"Never mind," said Hogan. "Newkirk, you go that way, Kinch, that way. Morrison and I are going to go down the field more. Meet back that way."

"Right," said Newkirk. He hurried off in the direction Hogan had pointed him.

Kinch started off, but Hogan grabbed his arm right before he could get away. Kinch looked at him questioningly. "Sir?"

"Listen," said Hogan. "I might not be coming back."

"What," asked Kinch, almost breaking the whispering tones.

"Just hear me out," said Hogan quickly, his expression imploring Kinch to fall silent and stop any words that might have been said. "They want someone who knows what they're doing, they'll get one. I'll volunteer myself. I can't stand aside and watch as seven of my men are selected out of prejudice. And don't say you need me, cause you don't. I wouldn't be able to do anything without you guys. When you think about it, what do I really do? Just a bit more spying? I can't do what you guys do. I don't have your skills. And I know you don't need me to come up with things, because I've seen you guys do it before. You know how to take care of everything. Kinch, I'm trusting you now for everything. If they take me, you're in charge. Take care of everyone, and watch out for them. I know you will, because you always have. Keep tabs on Newkirk. Make sure Carter never stops telling stories and throwing around wacky ideas. And remind LeBeau that France will be liberated again. You know everyone just as well, probably better, than I do. You're the guy for the job. Trust me."

Kinch was speechless for a moment. "Sir…I…what about you…you can't escape!"

"I've already got it figured out," said Hogan. "You guys take me out as Gestapo, act like you are at least, and then I'll escape from there. But really I'll already be gone."

Kinch paused for a moment. "But sir…see! That's why we need you! You always know what needs to happen. You always have a plan. Colonel, we would be nothing without you. You brought us together, made it happen, made the impossible come true! Don't you remember those first months? We were all hopeless and helpless. But you showed us everything. You can't just leave!"

"Kinch," said Hogan. "You're all changed people now. You're not helpless and hopeless anymore, though I refused to believe that you were to begin with. Just do me this one favor and accept this. Because I'm still going to volunteer myself for this. You guys will be fine."  
"Sir," said Kinch. "With all due respect, they're not going to take you. They want the others."

"Well, they can't exactly turn me away," said Hogan. "They said they wanted someone who knew what they were doing, they're going to get it. How many other spies in get to brag that there are Gestapo agents out there claiming _them_ to be the most dangerous man in Germany?" Hogan smiled half-heartedly. "If they take me, though, I know my men will be in good hands."

"And Newkirk," asked Kinch. "Why didn't you tell him? Doesn't he have a right to know what you're going to do?"

"He does," said Hogan. "But I'm denying him it. For his own good. What would he have done if he knew?"

"He would've hit you over the head and dragged you back to camp," said Kinch easily with a small smile.

"Exactly," said Hogan. He smiled. "Can you forgive me Kinch?"

"I can't very well not," admitted Kinch. "I can't stay mad at you. Just, just don't beg them to take you. I know why you're doing it. It's noble. But if you know it's a lost cause, don't push it, right?"

"That's advice I can't ignore," remarked Hogan. "And I'll remember."

"Morrison," said Kinch. "Did you know about this?"

"Nope, I promise," Morrison said quickly. "This is the first I'm hearing of it. Both of you have excellent arguments, but I'm afraid there's little either of you can really do."

Then, they looked up as they heard a low droning noise. It was the bomber, coming in low to make its quick landing. Kinch swallowed and looked at Hogan.

"Just promise me that whatever happens, you'll stay as safe as you can," he said. "Remember what you always tell us: don't pad your part."

"Got it," promised Hogan.

They watched as the plane landed in the field. They ran out to meet it. It came to a stop, and immediately a side door opened up. A man put his arm out and helped Morrison climb in. Kinch shook Hogan's hand, and then pushed his commanding officer up into the plane. Without a second glance he turned and ran back to the cover of the woods. He met Newkirk running up towards the field.

"Damn, I missed 'im," said Newkirk. "I was goin' to ask 'im to look this bird up for me in London."

Kinch smiled, and turned around to watch the plane go. "Don't worry Newkirk. Those birds aren't going anywhere." He looked back at Newkirk. "See anything?"

"Nope," said Newkirk. "It must've been a rabbit or somethin'. You see anythin'?"

"Not a thing," said Kinch without hesitation. He shrugged. "Let's go back to the farm. We can visit some before we head back to camp."

"Sounds like a plan, mate," said Newkirk.

They started away from the field. Kinch walked with his head down, deep in thought.

_I'm trusting you now for everything._


	13. Debate

The generals depicted in this chapter are all fictional.

* * *

**Chapter 13--D****ebate**

Hogan always enjoyed landing back in London. There was relief in knowing that it was safe to be Colonel Robert E. Hogan. They landed on a military base close to London, and then were driven back into the city. They were the only ones out, because of the air raid threats. Though they were less frequent, no one chanced being out on the streets. Evidence of the bombing was seen almost everywhere. Each time he came, Hogan noticed more destruction. Morrison seemed hardly phased, having seen German cities in the same destruction. But when they went through a few streets where both sides were utterly rubble and charred metal, both men felt it.

Morrison looked at Hogan. "Had you seen London before the war, Colonel?"

"Yeah," answered Hogan. "I was here the first day they were bombed. It's sad."

"I remember it how it was," said Morrison. "Not a scratch on it. Even though I've seen it in Germany, it's still a shock."

"It was quite a shock 'ere when the first shell 'it," spoke up the young MP who was driving. "I guess you would know that, Colonel. We all thought the attack was comin' from the knee, or there'd be paratroopers. But Jerry droppin' bombshells was daft. Thought they 'ad better loafs than that. Just made us mum an' dad at 'em."

"Excuse me," asked Morrison, obviously confused by the clang.

"He said that everyone thought the attack was coming from the sea, or the air, and that bombing them was stupid, and he thought they had better brains than that, because it just made the Brits madder at the Germans," explained Hogan quickly.

"Oh," said Morrison.

"Iffen you don't mind me askin'," said the chauffeur. "'Ow do you know wot I said? You bein' a Sherman an' all."

"A what," asked Morrison.

"A Yank he says," translated Hogan. "Sherman Tank means Yank. But you don't have to say the tank part. And to answer your question, young man, I know a fella like you, who sometimes goes out on a rant, and forgets to speak normal English."

"At least we speak the King's English," replied the MP.

"But we Shermans don't follow the King anymore, now do we," said Hogan smartly.

The MP laughed. "Oh don't worry. We've not forgotten about the Colonies rebellin'." He pulled over onto the side of the road outside one of the taller buildings in London. Shades pulled down let out little light, but Hogan knew this to be the place. "Well, 'ere we are sirs. That bloke there'll let you in. Someone told me you know the drill, Colonel. 'Ow so, I dunno, but I'm thinkin' it's safer not to. It was nice chattin', by the way."

"Yes," said Hogan. "Just a quick question though."

"Yes sir," asked the MP.

"You ever heard of anyone by the name of Newkirk," asked Hogan.

"Blimey, that's not a rare name," answered the MP. "But I've known a few personally. Are you lookin' for someone?"

"No," said Hogan. "Just curious."

"Give me a first name, an' I could tell you for sure," said the MP.

Hogan shook his head. "I can't. That's a bit much, if you get my drift."

"I do," replied the MP knowingly. "I'll never know why I was picked to be a military policeman. I spent most o' me life runnin' from the bobbies. But if you know these Newkirks good, I'll tell you somethin' about the ones I knew. One, a lady, she died, before the war. There's a younger lady, an' she works for the WAAF. An' the other is long gone in the war. Some say 'e got captured in 1942, an' some say 'e got killed in the Battle o' Dunkirk. That doesn't make any sense o' course, so you understand me confusion."

Hogan shook his head. "No, that doesn't make any sense. What's your name, son?"

"Private Bailey Jameson," he answered.

"Thanks," said Hogan. "Thanks for the ride to."

"Me pleasure, sir," answered Jameson with a tip of his hat.

Hogan slid out, and the car drove off. Morrison looked at him curiously. "What was that about?"

"I had to ask," admitted Hogan. "I lived in London for two years, went through the first bombings, and everything. And then one of my best friends happens to be from here, and I start to realize I don't know that much about him. Or any of my men for that matter. I have to ask about him if anyone knows him and where he lived, or anything about their family. It's curiosity really, but no one knows. It's always something like that. Too many Newkirks I guess. Some have disappeared and others are just around."

"Well," said Morrison. He gestured to the door. "After you?"

Hogan walked towards the door, where another MP stood waiting. The MP unlocked the door, and let them in.

***** ***** *****

"You _will _hear him out because he came all the way over here to be heard out. Listen, you may be the head of special ops, but you still do not understand the magnitude of the situation you are getting into now. Even though you've read the files, and _think_ you know, you just don't. I do not even know; that's how secret it is."

"You don't think I've given thought into the importance of his operation? Because I have. And I've also, with these other men here, given a lot of thought to the _extreme_ importance to the invasion we are planning. Have you thought of that? Have you thought about the sacrifices that are going to have to be made?"

"Of course I have! I deal with this kind of stuff every day. The things we demand from the unit are every step closer to being their doom. And that is what I am trying to tell you: you can't split them up, because they need everyone for their success!"

Whatever was said next did not penetrate through the strong oak door that was separating the conference room from the secretary's office. But all three people present in the secretary's office were looking at the door with their eyebrows raised. The secretary had her finger on the intercom, about to alert the room that Hogan and Morrison had arrived. But the 'conversation' in side had escalated, distracting them all. Once the voices died down again, Hogan looked back at the secretary.

"I think it's safe," he said.

"It's been going on like this since yesterday," she said. "Always arguing in there about something. Their voices go up and down, sounding like a choir for goodness sakes. One time I had to make someone leave, because you could hear a bit too much information through that door."

Morrison chuckled. "How are the walls?"

"Much better," assured the secretary. "But I'll let them know you're here." She hit the intercom button.

"Yes," came General Butler's voice, sounding agitated.

"Sir," said the secretary, in her most professional voice. "Colonel Hogan and Robert Morrison are here as you were expecting."

"Oh good, send them both in," he said. He sounded a bit elated now. "Thank you Jeanne."

"You're welcome, sir," replied the secretary. She clicked off the intercom. "You can go right in."

"Thanks," said Hogan. He looked at Morrison, and they both straightened their jackets as best as they could.

"Wish I were in uniform," said Morrison. "I'm too used to it now."

"Don't worry," said Hogan. "You're a spy out of disguise. Doesn't it feel great?"

"Amazing," said Morrison sarcastically. "Ready? Because you know what we're getting into, don't you?"

"I'm the one who came up with it, remember?" But Hogan didn't wait for a reply. He went to the door, and Jeanne opened it for them. They stepped in, side by side, very ready to take on whatever was thrown at them. What they weren't prepared to see was a whole conference table filled with generals, American, British, and French, from the Army, Navy, Air Force, of each country. They stopped in surprise, and it wasn't until Butler came around the table to them that they reacted.

"Nice to see you two made it," said Butler, shaking Hogan's hand. "Do you know when exactly you'll need to leave?"

Hogan glanced at his watch. "Three hours sir."

"That should be enough time," said Butler. "Come this way."

He brought them to their seats, and as they walked, Hogan glanced around the table. Almost everyone seemed surprise and confused to see him and Morrison. One of the generals on the American side was standing up, and giving Hogan a hard look. Hogan figured that this was none other than General Marcus O'Reilly. He found out that he was right, when introductions were given to everyone.

"I have a question before we continue," said General Timon, a British Army General. "Why were you so late getting here, and why do you have to leave early, and why are we having this meeting at this ungodly hour?"

"With all due respect General," answered Hogan. "Because my hours are not as flexible as yours. I work out of a very unusual cite in Germany. If I or my men were found missing at any point in time, it would hurt our operation greatly. Therefore, nights are the safest times I can come. But getting out of Germany is a risk I don't take lightly."

"So," Butler took up. "I would hope we reach a sound and thoughtful decision here gentlemen."

The previous conversation seemed to take up, but with a new twist. Timon looked at O'Reilly. "If they would be missed, that would make it unwise for them to be taken from their cite."

"But I understand that there are ways around this," said O'Reilly. He took a seat. "Is that right, Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan shifted in his seat, but leaned forward to look directly at O'Reilly. "We're capable of a lot of things, sir. I don't have the liberty to give you many details, but I can tell you this, like I tried to tell you yesterday over the radio: We can't afford to lose anyone because of the fact that their sills are needed. All my men have a part to play, a specialty. That they mesh so well and work so well is what makes us successful. If you were to take away seven of them, that would be a blow we can't afford."

"It isn't seven anymore," said O'Reilly. "General Butler has persuaded me not to take a Corporal Newkirk because he is on your command team and apparently out of my jurisdiction as well because he is in the RAF."

"What does that have to do with anything," asked General Ridley, of the USAAF. "There are other men, Private LaMarque, and Corporals Simmons and Alexander that are in our air force, and you don't see us whining about it."

Hogan looked at Butler, who took a steadying breath. The English were prideful, and they would not be seen 'whining' about anything. "I just disagree with the procedure here and am protecting what men I can. Not to mention that Corporal Newkirk is used directly in most missions."

"So even if we left Corporal Newkirk alone," said O'Reilly. "Why do you still have an issue with this? We need men, and you're men are best for the job."

"But I need them as well," argued Hogan, trying not to sound impatient. "That would be like me pulling out Patton's Third Army for my own use. You just can't do that. Patton's Third Army is needed to do what they do. And my men need to be doing what they do."

"How many men are under your command, Colonel," asked General Sykes, an American Navy General.

"I can't release that information," answered Hogan.

"Why not," asked O'Reilly. "You are talking to men who know crucial details about the upcoming invasion."

Hogan looked at Butler questioningly. Morrison shifted uncomfortably on the other side of Hogan.

"Why do you care about the numbers," asked Morrison.

"Because that would prove as to whether or not he really needs those men," responded Sykes. "Is seven—or six now, rather—really going to hurt his operation. And who did you say you were, again?"

"Robert J. Morrison, sir," said Morrison.

"You're not in the military," asked Timon.

"No, not really," answered Morrison. "I worked for the OSS; still do I suppose. I was formerly Major Hans Teppel with the Abwehr, and was working for the Allies. However, as you know, the Abwehr was disbanded, so I had to make a run for it."

"You worked for Jerry," asked Timon.

Hogan was suddenly overcome by frustration and impatience. "Yes, that's what spies do. And I'm a spy too. So are all of my men. However, the Nazis don't know that. And if six went missing suddenly, they would wonder what in the heck is going on, because we're all suspected by one Gestapo officer. And if he got a whiff of anything, he could definitely do some damage."

"You are an Underground unit," argued O'Reilly. "You're hidden! How in the heck would the Gestapo possibly see anything?"

Hogan looked at O'Reilly like he was five. "You really don't know do you? You have no idea where I was when you radioed me yesterday?"

"All I know is that you work in Germany," answered O'Reilly.

"Well then," said Hogan. "Since I trust that nothing of what I say leaves the room, I'll tell you where I work and why we are always watched by the Gestapo." He paused. "I command a POW camp outside of Hammelburg, Germany, called LuftStalag13."

"That's impossible," said Timon. "They have to suspect something."

"A few do," answered Hogan. "But we've been able to hold them off by laying low at the right times, or by discrediting anyone who may suspect us. We keep a no-escape record to keep our foolish Kommandant in control. The guards are tamed, some bribed. No one really knows everything except for my men. But when I say that, I only mean about fifteen or twenty actually know what is happening. It's easier to keep everyone uninformed until they need to be. But everyone does what they need to do when they get the word. They're all volunteers. If they had opted to become a real POW camp and try to escape, things would be worse for us most likely, and there were would be a lot of other people dead."

There was silence as everyone digested that new piece of information.

"But you work with disappearances," said O'Reilly, not willing to back down. "You've gotten people out of Germany before. Mr. Morrison here is living proof."

"Yes," agreed Butler. "There's actually a camp set aside for anyone who was caught by them and sent here for questioning."

"And from reports I've read, you've even gotten rid of prisoners inside your camp that were against what you were doing, even some who were spies for the Nazis," went on O'Reilly. "If that's the case, how come you can't send me six of your men?"

"Because when we get rid of _one _or _maybe two_ people every now and then," said Hogan. "We create diversions and circumstances that coincide with what is going on at the present to make it plausible for these people to disappear. Six men can't just disappear without a reason. That means escape. And escape means our camp gets turned upside down and that puts our operation at stake." He heaved a breath, and stood up. "But, _sir_, lemme explain to you _another_ reason why even if I could have my men get out of camp, I don't want them to go. Because you selected them for an unethical reason. You looked at their backgrounds and said that they didn't deserve a second chance, so you gave them a suicide mission. You called them thieves and varmint right in my ears, probably thinking I felt the same way. Well, you're wrong. I live in the worst conditions with these men, and I wouldn't think twice about trusting them with my life, or them doing something that could make or break our operation. You know how many maps, codebooks, operation plans, and even generals we've stolen away from the Nazis because of these men? So they screwed up before, but you have to trust me: they're not the same. They've changed. They're good men, who fight everyday like any man on the front. And if you think you can just give them this mission because you think they ought to be punished, you're wrong, sir. Very wrong."

The other men in the room looked at O'Reilly, waiting for his reaction.

"Very well," he said. "I am wrong." Hogan breathed a bit more slowly, relaxed. "But perhaps you are passing up a crucial detail in the broad scheme of things: we need experienced men to complete these missions. Someone has to do them. Even if I were to change who I selected from your camp, would you still deny them to me? Would you still say no? Because the bottom line is that someone is going to have to take the big risk. Someone is going to have to put their life on the line and complete these missions for the greater good that we are _all_ fighting for."

Hogan bowed his head, knowing this would come. The other men in the room, if they had ever been on Hogan's side, were now seeing his dilemma as well. But Hogan already knew what he was going to say to this. So, he picked his head up again and looked back at O'Reilly.

"I know sir," he answered. "I knew it even after you told me on the radio. I just wanted to protect my men. So, I'll make a request: leave my men alone. Instead, take me."

A few of the generals' eyes went wide in surprise. Even O'Reilly looked shocked, but only for a bit. He reclaimed his composure and scrutinized Hogan.

"You knew you were most likely going to have to make that request," he said.

"Yes, sir," answered Hogan. "The only other person besides Morrison here you knew I would make the request is my second-in-command. If you accept it, I will radio him, and he will arrange for faux Gestapo agents to come pick me up from camp, though it won't really be me. Later, a report will be made that I escaped from the Gestapo. That leaves the camp's record clean, and that leaves my men to continue the operation without me."

"You thought this out very well," observed O'Reilly. "However, one man cannot do these jobs."

"Than I will go with him," said Morrison quickly. He stood up beside Hogan. "I've worked with Hogan and his men before. I'm very willing to protect at least one of them by going with Hogan, who I trust with my life as well. And you can't say I'm not experienced."

"We won't," promised O'Reilly. He gave a small smile. "I see that perhaps I was very wrong in saying what I said, because I know that this kind of loyalty does not go to varmint. Well, then gentlemen, if there is no opposition to Colonel Hogan's request, and Morrison's as well, then I will accept it."

There was none.

O'Reilly looked up at the two men standing before him. "Then it's settled. In place of your men, Colonel, you and Morrison will go. Go radio your second-in-command."


	14. Intervention

**Chapter 14--I****ntervention**

Butler stood up on the other side of Hogan.

"Well, chap," he said. "You've done it now. Go to Jeanne outside and she'll show you the radio room so that you can contact your men."

"Yes, sir," said Hogan. He and Morrison left the table and went to the door. Hogan opened it, and taking a step almost ran right into someone in uniform with their back to him.

"Oh, excuse me," Hogan said, taking a step back. The man in front of him turned around, and Hogan thought for a moment that his eyes were deceiving him. He immediately went to attention with a sharp salute.

"Achtung," called out Morrison out of habit. Then, after realizing his mistake and turning beet red, he called, "Attention!" The rest of the room jumped up as no other than General Dwight D. Eisenhower stepped into the room.

There was silence for another moment as Eisenhower looked around. "At ease," he said. Every man went to ease. "You can be seated gentlemen."

Still, no man went to their seats until the general had taken a seat at the head of the table. Hogan and Morrison remained standing respectfully at the door. Eisenhower turned around and looked at them. "Come sit down. You're supposed to be here as well."

"Yes, sir," answered Morrison and Hogan simultaneously.

"And that was a nice touch with the Achtung," added Eisenhower to Morrison.

"Um…thank you sir," replied Morrison. He looked to General Butler.

"Sir," said Butler. "This is Robert Morrison. He had just returned from a long service in Germany. He had penetrated the Abwehr, but after its fall he was on the run. And this is Colonel Robert Hogan, who helped Morrison get out of Germany."

"Good," said Eisenhower. "Having good men back with us is what we need right now. With the upcoming invasion we will need experts on what lies behind the lines." He looked at O'Reilly. "Now, I believe that is tied to what we are here for tonight, no?"

"Yes, sir," answered O'Reilly. "And we had just reached an agreement about who will be filling the roles we need to get behind the lines. Colonel Hogan and Mr. Morrison, because of their expertise in this matter, will be the ones to attempt these missions, and hopefully succeed."

Eisenhower looked at Hogan. "Why? And don't worry about details because I know of your operation. At least as much as needs to be known."

"Well, sir," said Hogan. "The original plan was to have six of my men go. However, that would endanger our operation to have six men disappear. It would be easier to have myself disappear by prearranged events. So, I volunteered myself, and Morrison volunteered to go with me."

"Your men," started Eisenhower. "They would know a lot about how things work behind lines, wouldn't they?"

"Yes, sir," answered Hogan. "They've worked there for a long time. Even just being in the camp, and going on work details, we see a lot of things."

Eisenhower nodded and pointed to a folder that Hogan was holding. "That the files on your men?"

"No, sir," said Hogan. "It's actually something my men--the ones who had been selected—had written in their defense. It seemed to them that it they had been chosen unjustly." Eisenhower shot an unreadable look at O'Reilly. "So," Hogan continued. "They wrote their side of it so to say. But we didn't need them."

"Hand them over, please," Eisenhower demanded politely. Hogan obediently did. The general opened the folder. Hogan's brow furrowed when he saw a piece of paper folded in half on top of the other seven papers. Eisenhower looked curious as well.

"Sorry, sir," said Hogan quickly. "That must be a letter that accidentally got caught up with the other papers."

Eisenhower unfolded it. "It's from a Technical Sergeant Andrew J. Carter."

Hogan sighed, remembering Carter perched up on Newkirk's bunk writing to Mary Jane. "Yes, that's one of my men. He was writing to his girl back home."

"This doesn't look like a letter to home, Colonel," said Eisenhower with an amused smile. He began to read it. "To whom it may concern:…"

_ This is probably not going to influence anything, because if you're reading this, you're most likely a general. A general who is in charge of some part of the planning of the invasion. Don't be alarmed that I know this, because I'm a member of a very special underground operation in Germany. My commanding officer is Colonel Robert E. Hogan, a great man, and you've probably already figured that out. _

_ Anyway, the reason for me writing this letter is because of this planned mission you or someone has come up with. This suicide mission is in preparation for the invasion, which means it certainly is worth doing. And I know that someone has to do it. But, when you pick people based on their background, that's not right. Everyone knows the saying don't judge a book by its cover. But it's hard to enforce, especially nowadays. It's hard to trust anyone, especially in the spy business. But it's not that. It's saying you're going to probably kill off people just because they had a bad time in the past. I'm not naïve, because I know what some of these men have done. By all rights, they deserved to go to prison for what they did. (Except for Private LaMarque, because he was framed). Still, they've paid the price and more. Just think: they're in prison now. And they're in a prison where at any moment they could find themselves dead or in more trouble because we're all in the Nazis' hands. Even though we're capable of doing many things in our operation, it would be hard for us to stop the Nazis from reorganizing people, and messing up what we so carefully put together in this camp. Don't you think that's enough payment for robbing a bank or something?_

_ Also, I've lived with these men now. I know who they are. They aren't men who would rob a bank for the heck of it anymore. I can even tell you that some have gone from thinking only about themselves to risking their butt for someone else. _

_ Still, I know the bottom line is that someone has to go. But if you're going to send these men, don't send them because they're scum off the street. Send them because they're soldiers who would do their duty for the country, and now: go beyond their call. They're honorable men. They're loyal. They're brave. And they wish for peace just like any other men. They want to go home to their families and celebrate life. A lot of people won't be able to do any of that by the time this war is finished. But I hope you realize that it's true that every man wants the same things. They're like you and me, just with some rough times behind them._

_ Well, I'm not sure if this made an impression or not. But thanks for reading this anyway._

_ Sincerely, _

_ Technical Sergeant Andrew J. Carter_

Eisenhower looked up from the letter and at Hogan. The colonel could not discern what Eisenhower's face was saying, so he remained silent.

"You're men care about one another, Colonel," he said at last.

"Yes, sir, they do," agreed Hogan.

"You do as well?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

Eisenhower nodded. He set the letter back on top of the other papers, and shut the folder. He looked at O'Reilly.

"I don't want Colonel Hogan and Morrison to go."

"Sir," said O'Reilly. "Who would you have go?"

"War's a nasty business and I hate talking like this," answered Eisenhower. "But you don't want to get rid of men who have the knowledge. I want you to send field soldiers, not spies. Spies are needed to do what they do best: spying. However, you can inform a soldier about what he needs to know and give him the equipment to complete a mission. That's what needs to happen. If you were to send Colonel Hogan or Morrison along, you could possibly be killing off valuable minds. And the same thing with his men. They know too much."

"Yes, sir," said O'Reilly, almost looking dejected.

"It's harsh," muttered Morrison, just loud enough for Hogan to hear.

"Excuse me, Mr. Morrison," asked Eisenhower.

Morrison swallowed, but answered, "I said it's harsh."

"Yes, it is," agreed Eisenhower. "But that's war isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Colonel," said Eisenhower. "I didn't make my decision based on your man's letter." He handed the folder back to Hogan. "However, after reading that, I'm glad I made the decision I did."

"I don't understand sir," said Hogan. "That letter wasn't in the defense of me. It was for the men selected."

"I know," replied Eisenhower. "And you belong with those men. Everything I hear about your unit is just how amazing you are. About the brilliant plans you come up with, and how you push them through. The Underground praises Papa Bear. Capable of anything, they say. And I've always wondered: where would the men be without you? And where would you be without them?"

"They can work without me," said Hogan. "They're smart and clever, and they have all the skills."

Eisenhower shook his head and smiled. "They say you're modest as well, and I'm believe it now. Your men do have the skills, but you're their leader. They look to you for the orders, just like you look to them for the skills. It's a double-edged sword, Colonel, only doing the impossible when both edged are working together. I will not deliberately separate you from your men, or any of your men from you. Never."

Hogan smiled. "Thank you, sir. You don't know how much that means to me."

"I've a feeling," said Eisenhower.

He stood up, and then everyone stood up as well. "I'll be going now, seeing as that is settled. Colonel, I expect that you will be going back to Germany tonight. O'Reilly, transfer Mr. Morrison under my command. We'll be needing him. As for everyone else, gentlemen, good night." He saluted, and everyone returned the salute, remaining at attention, until General Eisenhower had left the room.

Hogan visibly relaxed and looked at Morrison. Morrison smiled and shook Hogan's hand hard. "Congratulations, Colonel. You've got your men and your command. You can go back to little ole Stalag 13 and await your orders as usual."

Hogan chuckled. "Oh, joy." He sighed. "No, it'll be good to go back with good news all around."

Butler slapped Hogan on the back. "Very well then. Come, old boy, you'll need to radio your men and let them know you're on your way home."


	15. Truths

**Chapter 15--T****ruths**

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?"

Hogan sighed as he stepped down into the tunnel and heard the first words out of Kinch's mouth. It was not, of course, to him. He had an idea who Kinch was talking to though.

"Um…just fooled aroun' wif some o' Carter's chemicals."

"Do you remember what you used?"

That was Carter, no doubt worried about what had been done to him. But Hogan was sure--as he walked down the tunnel towards the voices--that Newkirk had not gone to any extremes. Like using chemicals he didn't know about. He hoped that he was sure about that at least.

"'Course! It was all one's you'd shown me before. This one. That one there. An' this one 'ere. See nothin' 'armful."

Hogan froze when he came to the entrance of the chemistry lab. His eyes were glued on Carter.

"Not harmful," he exclaimed. "Newkirk, he's…he's blue!"

Everyone looked at Hogan.

"_Mon Colonèl_," cried LeBeau. "You are back! 'Ow did it go?"

"I'll explain everything later," said Hogan. "After I get the answer as to why Carter is blue."

Carter's face and arms were a dark indigo color, and if the young American had not looked so angry, and Hogan was not so confused, he would have laughed outright.

Everyone looked at Newkirk. He grinned sheepishly. "I was just gettin' back at 'im. It'll wash off in a day or two. Maybe."

Carter threw his hat at Newkirk. "Maybe?! Why I oughtta…"

"Ought to 'ave known wot was comin' at you, mate," countered Newkirk. "I warned you!"

"Well, he did," agreed LeBeau. "And I did too!"

"But Newkirk," said Kinch. "The main problem is not that you pulled a prank on him. It's about how do we explain this to the Krauts."

"Oh," said Newkirk. "I 'and't thought o' that."

"Of course you would not," said LeBeau. "_Vous imbècile…_"

"Wait a minute," said Hogan. "We'll transfer the blame."

"Transfer the blame," asked Kinch. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I like the sound o' it," said Newkirk.

"Don't worry," said Carter menacingly. "I'll _always_ remember who made me turn blue."

"Mary Jane o' course," replied Newkirk. "Dumpin' you like that would've made any man go blue."

"Be quiet Newkirk," ordered Kinch. He looked back at Hogan. "Go on, sir."

"What I mean," said Hogan. "For the Kraut's sake, let's just say that LeBeau played the prank and put food coloring in Carter's soap or something. They wouldn't know the difference."

"Why me," demanded LeBeau. "Newkirk could 'ave gotten 'is 'ands on some food coloring."

"But the Krauts don't know that," said Kinch. He patted LeBeau on the shoulder. "Don't worry LeBeau. Like Carter said: we all know who really did it."

Newkirk smiled. "All's fair in love and war."

"Aww, shut up," said Carter. "I'm gonna try and get some of this off before roll call."

"You do that," said Hogan. "Just be up in time. You have an hour."

"Yes sir," said Carter. He shot a final glare to Newkirk, before turning his back on them and rummaging through certain chemicals."

"I'm gonna get this uniform off and back into my camp clothes," said Hogan. "I don't want to surprise Schultz." He started towards the exit below the bunk. Kinch, Newkirk, and LeBeau followed him.

"So," prodded Newkirk. "We all in the clear then?"

"Yep," said Hogan, feeling accomplished. "We talked it out and they decided not to take any of us away from the operation."

"So, _everyone _is safe," asked Kinch. Hogan looked at him, knowing exactly what Kinch was asking.

"Yes," said Hogan, opening the bunk entrance. "Everyone at this camp is safe for now. Until our next mission of course."

He climbed out into the common room. Most of the men were awake and moving around, most likely from the noise downstairs. They were glad to see Hogan back as well.

"But I'll tell everyone what happened after roll call," said Hogan. "It's an interesting story."

"I'm sure it is," said Kinch.

"Wot's goin' on 'ere," asked Newkirk, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He looked at Hogan and Kinch. "You two know somethin' the rest o' us don't."

"Yeah, we do," admitted Hogan. "But don't worry about it. It's all over with and I'll tell you everything after roll call. I don't feel like repeating myself, so we'll wait for Carter."

He went into his quarters, shutting the door behind him. Newkirk looked at Kinch. "I'd better get the whole story."

"You will," promised Kinch. "If the Colonel says you will, you will."

***** ***** ****

Klink bought the explanation as to why Carter's skin was blue. The chemist had managed to find a way to make the tint go down some, so that it wasn't as dark. But it was still very noticeable. The men in the camp desperately tried not to laugh when they were in Carter's sight. No one thought Carter could really get mad, but anyone who laughed was getting a good smack on the back of the head. Newkirk was keeping a wide berth around Carter, and was now suspicious of everything. Newkirk was always suspicious, so it was hard not laugh at him either when he forced LeBeau to do everything first.

By the time Hogan got them all together in one room so that he could tell them what transpired in London, it was well after roll call. The other men who had been selected were welcome to listen in too. Hogan did not give them a blow by blow account of the meeting. He just told them basically what had been said. It was when he told them that he had volunteered to go that fireworks started to go off.

"You did wot," exclaimed Newkirk.

"You heard me," said Hogan calmly. "I volunteered to go instead of you guys."

"But why, sir," asked LaMarque. "That doesn't make any sense. It'd be better off for us, enlisted men, criminals, to go instead of you, a good officer in charge of an operation like this."

"_Oui_," agreed Arcenau. "Even if we had to go, we would rather go than have you go."

"'Ang on," said Newkirk. He looked at Kinch. "You knew about this didn't you?"

"Yeah," confessed Kinch. "I did."

"But—"

Hogan cut Newkirk off with a wave of his hand. "Not now. Let me finish, because it gets more interesting."

"Bloody 'ell."

Hogan went on to tell them how O'Reilly had accepted the request, and then how Eisenhower had entered the room.

"You ran into General Eisenhower," asked Olsen.

"Yeah, it nearly gave me a heart attack," replied Hogan. "But you should have seen Morrison. He was so surprised, he forgot to speak English. When he called the room to attention, he yelled '_Achtung!_'"

The men laughed, and Hogan continued with his story, coming to the next hot spot: Carter's letter. If Carter was not blue, everyone was sure that Carter would have turned red with embarrassment.

"He read it aloud," he asked. "Oh no, I didn't mean for anyone to do that, much less General Eisenhower." He buried his head in his arms, and the men chuckled.

"Wot did you write about," asked Newkirk.

"Read it for yourself," said Hogan, pulling the letter from his pocket. He handed it to Newkirk.

Newkirk skimmed it, and a smile broke out on his face. "Cor blimey, Carter. I can't believe you wrote this. Was this wot you were really writin' when you said you were writin' to Mary Jane?"

"Yeah," said Carter. "I just didn't want you to know."

Newkirk smiled warmly, and threw his arms around Carter's shoulders. "S'alright," he said. "I'd write a letter like that for you in a flash too. Thanks, mate. It means a lot."

"No problem," said Carter. "Does this make you feel guilty for turning me blue?"

"Nope," answered Newkirk without hesitation.

Carter pushed him away, and looked at Hogan. "Please go on with your story, sir."

Hogan smiled and complied, finishing off with a summary of what Eisenhower had said in their defense.

"Wow," said Matthews. "That's crazy. The Supreme High Commander, sticking up for us."

"Anything is possible in wartime," said Scotty.

"Yea," said Blackwell. "We're livin' proof o' that."

The men laughed.

"So that was it," asked LeBeau. "General Eisenhower left and you were free to come back?"

"Yep," said Hogan. "He transferred Morrison under his command, too."

"Good for him," said Kinch.

"Well," said Simmons. "I think I can go back to living like a normal person around here now."

That was the general agreement; that now everyone was safe from being pulled out, and away from their operation. Now they could go back to being 'normal' prisoners.

***** ***** *****

"Why'd you do it?"

Hogan turned and looked behind him. He was leaning on the side of the barracks at the corner, under the sign which read _Barracke 2_. He had been watching the camp quiet down, before evening _appel_, which would send them all back inside for the night.

Newkirk walked up to Hogan. "Why would you trade your life for seven criminals?"  
"You're not a criminal," replied Hogan.

"But I am, sir," argued Newkirk. "You can't deny that. Everyone does. They all say the same thing: you're a good man Peter. But it's not true. I robbed people. If I'd lived in Bridgeport, Connecticut, I would've robbed you."

Hogan smiled. "Yes, you probably would have. But not anymore. I believe you and the six other men that were selected have changed. You wouldn't rob anyone anymore."

"You really believe that," asked Newkirk. "An' ain't askin' on sentimental terms 'ere. I'm askin' on the terms o' naivety. You really think that's 'ow the world works?"

Hogan turned on Newkirk. "I am not naïve. I know just as much about suffering as you do."

"Yea," said Newkirk. "You do. When the Nazis are involved. You know 'bout the Gestapo. You know more 'bout them cause you suffered with them. I'm talkin' about before this bloody war. An' wot's goin' to 'appen after it. You really believe that all the criminals that are fightin' now are goin' to go back 'ome and be good little church boys?"

"No," said Hogan. "I don't. But I have faith. That's what you lack, Peter: faith. You can't believe because you don't have the courage to believe. You laugh and you never mean it. You're afraid of trusting that good things can happen."

"'Ow can I trust when nothin' good ever _does _'appen," asked Newkirk. "'Ow can I believe that things will get better when they never did? That even when I broke my back doin' right day after day, I never was able to better myself? You did everythin' right, an' you got wot you wanted. Just face the facts, Colonel, it doesn't matter wot I, or anyone like me does, cause it's never goin' to get better for us."

"Being poor and being wealthy does not have anything to do with it," said Hogan. "I still believe that you men, you men _here_ have changed. I know you Peter. You wouldn't rob anyone anymore. And even if you don't have faith in yourself or anyone else, I do. Because we're not fighting this war for nothing."

With that, he walked off, leaving Newkirk very much alone.


	16. Unresolved

**Chapter 16--U****nresolved**

TWO MONTHS LATER

The conversation that Hogan and Newkirk had shared was not forgotten but pushed aside. Neither mentioned it nor pressed the other about the opinions that had been discussed. They simply moved on. And it seemed that London had too. Shortly after, they were bombarded with normal missions and requests coming from both the Underground and Headquarters. They were so bombarded that the pranks dwindled away as pleasant memories that were talked and laughed about. Though many men still swore Carter looked blue at times. The show that the Europeans had been planning was held off for some time, but finally put together and performed. As was predicted by most of the Americans, they were the target of the play's humor. The Europeans went through a series of acts portraying altered—if not completely wrong—American history, and also making fun of American traditions or ways of life. With the majority of the camp's population being American, there was at first grumbling in the audience. Still, the humor was not lost, and was certainly welcomed so that all went to bed that night with smiles on their faces.

The invasion came, and Stalag 13's inmates played their role. The morale in camp was boosted as dreams of be liberating soon flittered around in the POWs' minds. News came everyday through the radio, and through letters about Allied victory after Allied victory. They were advancing on all fronts. Everyone could feel that the end was coming. It could only be months they thought.

Of course, the Underground's jobs became more precarious each day. The Gestapo was on the move, absolutely ready to crush anyone who so much as looked toward the West or East with hope. Still, the thought of really having a chance to survive, of being able to see the end, was enough to keep the men fighting harder than ever, even from within their own little stalag.

None of this, however, did excuse the atrocities of the war. More prisoners arrived, and letters more frequently came from home bearing sad news about lost loved ones or friends or just sad news in general. It was about three weeks after the invasion that Newkirk got a letter like that. It was the first batch of letters that had come since the invasion, and as usual, the men buried themselves into the pieces of paper, and for a time, things were quiet around camp.

Reactions to the letters were often signs to the others on how to approach a man after mail call. And Hogan did not miss Newkirk's forlorn and almost angry expression at his own letter. No one did. In the barracks, he was the only one who had apparently gotten bad news. They let him be for a few days. They were curious, but no one wanted to push a man into talking. They all knew where he was coming from.

But about a week later, Hogan caught a chance to find out what Newkirk was angry over. They were cleaning the barracks, and while taking the mattresses off the bunks, Hogan spotted a folded and worn piece of paper that had fallen from the bunks. Honestly, he had had no idea whose letter it was. He had opened it to see who it belonged to. When spotting Newkirk's name on it, he couldn't help but skim over it quickly to try and divulge its message. But when he realized what it was saying, he had to read every word.

_ Dear Peter,_

_ The invasion has finally come! I'm sure you know by now, because such a big thing not even the Germans could keep a secret. I'm sure the morale is boosted on your end, because it certainly is over here. I have to admit, we all knew something was up. More and more foreign soldiers were building up in Britain. But no one knew when anything would happen. We were just waiting, trying not to scream. It's been so long since we've been able to have something to really smile about. The Allies have been in Normandy for three days now, and we've advanced quite quickly. Though, by the time this letter reaches you, no telling what will have happened._

_ I haven't much other news to tell you really. Nothing really spectacular. The only good news I can really think of is that our neighbourhoood hasn't been bombed in awhile. Really, the bombings are quite scarce now. Still, I fear every night that they may come again. Oh, I'm so glad you were not here for any of that. It would've broken your heart to see London being torn up. Eventually, you will see it, but it was watching it become torn up that makes me sad at times. But listen to me, going on about those depressing things. Don't worry about me. Stay safe where you are._

_ Well you're always inquiring about your old chums, so I have some news for you. You won't like this one bit, but I promised you news as soon as I heard anything, so here it is: Thomas, your best mate Thomas Mackey that is, has gone M.I.A. And he's not the only one you know. There was also Everley Lewes, Crispin Hunt, and one other who was an acquaintance of yours at one time: Bailey Jameson. Don't ask me how I know or remember all these people. I wasn't completely naïve when you were going about your business around here when we were younger. Anyway, what was strange is that they all went M.I.A. the day before the invasion. And all of them were in the regular infantry, stationed here in England. There was no way that they were lost in a dogfight or anything. I can't think of any explanation. Anyway, I know this can't be anything but troubling for you so I'll just stop right there and say I'm sorry for your loss. Especially Thomas, because you two were inseparable when you were younger. I really am sorry, Peter, and I wish I could give you better news. Just remember that the war can't go on forever, and has hopefully been shortened with the invasion._

_ God Bless You._

_ Love,_

_ Mavis_

Hogan put the letter in his pocket and got up. Now, he was angry. Angry because he knew the truth. He knew why those men were gone. He knew that Newkirk knew as well. Hogan quickly sought out the Englishman, finding him washing blankets with LeBeau. He called Newkirk over.

"Yes, sir," asked Newkirk.

"I found this when were cleaning the mattresses," said Hogan, handing Newkirk the letter.

Newkirk glanced down at it. "I don't mean to accuse, Guv'nor, but you read it, didn't you?"

"Yeah," admitted Hogan. "I did. I was curious. I was worried about you as well."

"Well," said Newkirk. "Now you know."

He turned to walk away but Hogan grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry, Peter," he said. "I really am."

"For what," asked Newkirk. "Because I lost my friends, or because now we all know that London never changed?"

"Both," answered Hogan. "Because I did believe things could change."

Newkirk sighed at the defeated look that was planted on his commanding officer's face.

"Things do change, Guv'nor," said Newkirk. "But not everything. There will always be poverty, there will always be criminals, there will always be criminals who want to change, and there will always be people out there to condemn other men to fates they can't possibly change." He shook his head. "Never mind, it's something I came to terms with a long time ago."

"Can you promise me something though," asked Hogan. "Promise me something that _you_ can do?"

Newkirk looked at Hogan for a long moment. "I can try."

"Well try this," said Hogan. "Don't go back to whatever it was you did before. Become someone better; someone I know you can be because I've seen it. You _have _changed. Can't you see that?"

Newkirk shrugged. "Maybe. I just don't know if it's for better or worse." He smiled. "ut I promise you sir, I won't go back. Because, well…I've never given up. It's just sometimes, everything seems utterly hopeless, and I have to ask myself, is it worth going on?"

"So," said Hogan. "What convinces you to go on?"

"People," said Newkirk. "Before, it was me Mum an' sister. I 'ad a really good friend too—Thomas. They were always there for me. An' I 'ad people in the RAF that I knew after I joined up. We got close. An' when I got captured, I 'ad a group o' people that I stuck around wif. There was Louie too. An' now I've got this gang 'ere. Still, when rotten stuff 'appens, like this—" he held up the letter "—it slows down the pace some. But I'll get over it eventually. Because I've people like you who are around to keep me up. If it was just me, I would've died off a long time ago."

Hogan smiled. "And yet, you seem to always isolate yourself more than others."

Newkirk shrugged. "Guess that's just me."

"Well," said Hogan. "As long as you're okay."

"I am," assured Newkirk with a smile. "You?"

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Except one thing: I met Bailey Jameson. I'm sorry about him too. He seems like an ok guy."

"We all are," said Newkirk. "Just not to London."

With that, he walked off.

Hogan walked off back to the barracks, in deep thought. After everything, while they fought for change, fought for justice, was it still ignored by their own side? By no means did anyone think of giving second chances to cruel men. But there was a difference between cruel and misguided. Hogan had seen it. Many had. But not everyone.

So, London had not moved on. Though they—at the camp—had thought the issue was resolved, it had not been. And Hogan realized then that it probably would never be. There would always be injustice somewhere.

**THE END**

**

* * *

**

Well, that's all. I hope I did not end too abruptly. Now, I'll explain some things:

Someone in a review said that this had a "Dirty Dozen" look to it. And I can't deny that. However, I would like to share with you that what happened in the end was not entirely fiction. On the morning of the invasion, when paratroopers were being dropped a small number of Allied soldiers were into Normandy dressed as Nazis, their goals to penetrate the enemy's forces and cause some amount of confusion to help their comrades. Many of the men chosen for the job were impressed off the streets of London. They were given the choice of going to prison or fighting; or something along those lines. Most of the men that went on these missions were never seen again. They had limited command of German and French, so many were easily spotted out by Nazis. Still, some were able to complete their missions or at least hook up with the Underground and help them complete theirs, doing their part for D-Day.

Thanks for all the reviews, and I hope you all enjoyed the story.

Simone Lyon

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving!


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